Running to the Future

Is it possible that middle age is not the most elegant time of life to start jogging?

I went for a practice run the other day, mostly motivated by a morbid fear of being left in the dust, breathless, red in the face and humiliated at my upcoming running clinic.  I quickly had to adjust my intention to run daily when every muscle in my lower body mysteriously seized up the next morning.  There’s a lot going round right now, so I obviously came down with a rare achey-body virus.

Still, the first running lesson went quite well – despite my disappointment that they didn’t cancel after a foot of snow fell the night before.  The idea of running was stressful enough without worrying about sloshing through the slush and muck of a retired blizzard.

I was horrified to discover that the goal of the clinic is a 5km race.  And here I thought the goal was to be able to trot to the end of the block without keeling over and dying.  Still, as we ran I’m pretty sure I could feel my butt firming up which is really what it’s all about.

It was a glorious moment when we found ourselves back at the store before I gave in to the urge to disappear down the nearest alley and stumble to Starbucks.

And not a single crisis at home while I was out – yay!

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