Refuge

I decided to start the C25K (Couch to 5K) program. It's a slow, regimented program that will train me to run a 5K in 9 weeks. I've had knee problems from jumping into a running program ahead of the beginning, so this time I decided to take it slow. Today was the first day of the program. So, this morning, I left the house with my cell phone and lots of optimism. I downloaded a program to my phone that sends audible tones when I'm supposed to walk and then when I need to run. It works 'on top' of my music, so I get to listen to my favorite playlist while training.

About three minutes into the 5 minute warm up, I realized something. It was quiet. I mean, there was music in my ears, but there wasn't a person around needing something. No one calling "Mamma" over and over and over again. I was alone with my favorite music and the cool April morning. Euphoria.

Until the tone rang and it was time for my first 1-minute jog. My body responded with a resounding "NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" My shins started burning after 15 seconds. My knees felt like they had sand in them. My
saddlebags protested by sending my brain messages that they were bruised beyond functioning. Just as I was thinking, "What WAS I thinking," the song I was listening to ended and I was once again reminded of the quiet. It was much more powerful than my body's rebellion.

I paid attention to my body. Felt the muscles in my legs working - allowed myself to be in awe of the human form. I felt the breeze across my cheeks. I almost wanted to close my eyes.

Another tone and I was walking for two minutes. My legs were burning. Lungs were weighted. From a 1-minute jog. This was bad. But the quiet, it was so worth it. So, I gave myself to the quiet. Listened to my music, paid attention to the pounding of my feet against the pavement. I was aware of the earth around me, of my body finally settling into the work - loosening in relief that the long winter of inactivity was over.

It was a blissful and painful 25 minutes. The secret to getting outside for a run? 11 years of motherhood to four kids. Who knew.