Goal weight: 185 lbs.
Would you like to know the honest truth? I didn’t want to run this morning. Nope. Not at all. My bed felt good. The sheets were nice and warm and the air in the room was cool. And I was tired. I finished up a book project yesterday and I’ll be very, very honest with you — I’m flat exhausted. But I haven’t run that much since last Wednesday (due to an injury) and didn’t want to lose too much fitness. Add to that, it was cool and not humid. A cool August morning in Mississippi is as rare as a flying penguin. I struck while the iron was not hot.
My feet hit the floor and I put on my running gear. I stretched while I waited for my GPS watch to find the satellites and thought about how far I’d go. If my hip injury hurt, I’d limit it three miles. If it felt fine, I’d go for five. I ended up running 5.20 miles.
My legs felt great. It is amazing what a little rest can do for your body. I didn’t seem to lose much fitness and my heart rate stayed in the 140-155 range (down since the weather was cooler.) It was dark with no moon and a light blanket of ground fog covering the grass. I listed to Seth Godin in one ear and the bugs sing me a song with the other (I usually only run with one ear phone so I can hear traffic).
I was a good run. A strong run. A run I needed to burn off toxic stress building up inside of me. I got home, took my shirt off and looked at the pink lines that dot my body. Like photos stuck on the family refrigerator, they are my memories of some of the challenges I’ve faced. I have a scar on my head from when I hit the fireplace as a child. I have a scar on my back from where I was bitten by a dog. I have a couple of scars on my left knee where I fell and the pavement carved me like a turkey. I have numerous scars from my malignant melanoma and other moles that were removed. They were all little pink reminders of how I recovered from life’s little traumas along the way.
I’ll be honest, it didn’t take much courage to survive those traumas. But it took a lot of courage to recover. Getting past my desire to be “safe,” to get back in the saddle after I fell off of life’s horse — well, that took courage.
I rubbed my main melanoma scar, smiled and thought how fortunate I truly am. I then hit the shower and began my day. Today was five more miles run on my road to recovery.