The Run, 2011

I went for a run on Thursday. Yesterday I powered through sore muscles and hiked the mesa behind our house. Today I can't move. When I did I get this old?

For those of you who read "I went for a run" and started wondering who the heck is writing this, let me be clear: I went for a run/walk because it was beautiful outside and I didn't have time to make it to the gym. And to really prove that it's me, I'll tell you that it sucked.

The first 90 seconds of my run were glorious. Then my lungs hurt, followed quickly by a stitch in my side, rapidly compounded by aching knees. And this was all before I made it to the end of our block. As I contemplated taking a break to catch my breath I thought, "Good God, all I've done is run downhill!" From our house the only way to go is down, which means the only way home is up.

I switched to walking to keep my heart from exploding and when the stitch in my side had abated to a tolerable level I ran again--briefly. Then I switched to walking, thought about running, thought twice, and then walked the long uphill climb home. In all I probably ran a mile and walked another.

I have no clue how people can run for miles and miles. My walk was a brisk one, and between my music and the sunshine I was home before I knew it, but I was aware of every dragging second while I was running. I'm sure it gets better if you do it more often than once every six years, but I'm just not sure I'm that much of a glutton for punishment.

However, when I was about a block from home this little SAHM who's at least 10 years older than me jogged past me on the path, wearing a sassy little black and pink outfit that left no doubt about her fitness. Her ease of motion clearly indicated she runs often, and as we passed and smiled at each other (me with loathing in my heart for all her non-jiggly body parts) I noticed she didn't even have earphones. Happily running without any distraction? That's when you'll know my body has been taken over by aliens.