The sisters and I went to the Breast Cancer Walk as we do each year. Our mother used to make us go, and we carry on the tradition because we are still fearful of that woman and she's watching from above with an eagle eye. This year it poured and we were soaked, even though we followed the other family tradition of arriving 2 minutes before the start and throwing a cheque at registration as we bolted for the start line. For some bizarre reason I still cannot fathom we decided to run a bit. Well it felt quite nice to run. I used to run a lot and was quite speedy at one time. Ran real races and everything! We ran/walked the course and it got me thinking. I stopped running because I kept getting nasty injuries that hung around forever. The next day I was sore, but not fatally so.
You see where this is going, don't ya. Today I strapped on the sneaks and went for a walk/run. Took my tunes and felt quite perky. It lasted about 1 km. Then my Achilles tendon reminded me that Pilates several weeks ago had been a bit stressful. I used to run through pain but I have learned that lesson well, after repeated practice. So I limped home, stretched and stretched, and now I'm going off to find someone to massage all my sore parts. The ankle seems to have friends.
Will I ever be a runner again? I really did like it once upon a time. It's easy and powerful. In my mind, in my mind only perhaps. Sneakers, I don't think we've finished with this yet. Pass the ice, please.