JUST Running. My First Crack at It!!

Ok, it wasn't a 10K or anything impressive - (are 10K's impressive? it sounds impressive but maybe I'm just making myself look like an even bigger running virgin). My first shot at running was a humble 1.8 miles. Just from my house to the city library and back. I didn't set out to inspire anyone, however, usually that would be a drive for me. A distance worth driving is too far to walk and much less to run.

This is why I thought it'd be a good goal, I'd be pushing myself but at the same time and in a worst case scenario I could drag myself the last 3 blocks. Also, it is a decently trafficked area on either side of the route so someone would have noticed my unconscious body on the sidewalk - and hopefully someone would have done something about it.

So, I put on my Fila Skeletoes shoes (more on this later), secured my Camelbak - pathetic I know, but just in case, after all I didn't know how my body would respond not only to the physical aspect of it but mainly to the psychological stress, the mental strain of my brain in having to deal with the fact that I was running, JUST running - and I slipped into my shoes then left the house,

So, there I was. Running in these shoes is definitely different. It's like slapping your feet against the pavement, much like running barefoot, because you can't land on your heel - that'd be too painful even after a couple of blocks. Before I knew it I had gone a couple of blocks longer than I thought I could, at least without stopping. But now I'm nervous because I'm getting far from home, going through spots that are unfamiliar to me mainly because I've only zipped past them in my car before. Now, here I am, just me. Actually it's kind of exciting at the same time, sort of like exploring.

If I'm going to be honest, my actual worry was dogs. I was nervous that someone's dog was going to leave their property and chase after me. Yeah, in my barefoot shoes, me running? right, that's not gonna work. If you were attacked by a dog when you were little, you know the anxiety. Still, I kept going and sure enough I keep getting closer to my target, only one problem, I can definitely feel the wear down. Whatever. My feet feel like I've been clapping for 2 hours. Hmm. Whatever. By now I've stopped at least 3 or 4 times, and I'm starting to see myself dragging back home. I'm too proud to call for a ride. Eventually between short spurts of running but mainly walking, I made it back home.

I am pretty proud of myself at this point. I called my wife to tell her of my newly accomplished feat. It's great to experience how even  if only by stubbornness, you can do difficult things you really hate to do. Not only did I "just run", I ran farther than I ever cared for or thought myself capable of, and I completed the challenge. Suddenly the Mt. Everest of Tough Mudder seems just a little more reachable. Maybe I can.