It turns out that the block on which I live is a 1/4 mile around.
So, I went running today, for the first time in maybe one year.
I’ve probably only run three times in the past three years.
Goal: four times around the block…1 mile, baby.
After my first time around the block, I was beat. Time:
2:25. Since there was only about 3 teaspoons of blood by then in
my head, it took me a while to calculate that, at best, I was going to
hit a 10 minute mile. But I was heaving like a donkey in labor, so I decided to “speed
walk” my way around the next lap and then run the next one.
Some people say that when they exercise, they feel like they’re going
to die. Me, I felt like I was going to suddenly pass out, get run
over, and then die. But God was on my side. After my second lap, it began to rain and
I thought the wisest and most responsible course of action was to just go home.
When I got to my front door, as I was fishing for my key, the pangs of
death began creeping up on me. I stumbled in, splashed cold water
on my face, rinsed out my sticky mouth, and drank some tea. I was
so dizzy, it felt like I was a five-year old wearing my mother’s
prescription glasses. Now,
20 minutes later, I’m writing this to you while it feels like my head
is going to roll off of my shoulders at any moment. I’d grab my
cup of tea except I’m afraid that it is now too heavy for me and I’ll
just spill it all over the keyboard.
I should have followed Mark Twain’s example: “When I feel the
urge to exercise, I go lie down until it passes away.” Either
way, I’m going to go and lie down.