Jogging

I generally resent the term ‘jogging.’ Kind, innocent people ask me if I went for “a jog.” That’s running to you, thanks. But this morning I went for a jog, or a shuffle that was so ugly I tried not to look at my shadow. My body knew what it was doing but is a bit rusty in the heel to toe dance. I normally feel graceful and athletic in sport, but this morning my feet were sloppy, slappy, and uncoordinated.

After a month off I knew I was in trouble. But where, oh where to start up again? While we were training for the half-marathon my perspective of workouts and distance changed greatly. After about two weeks, if I wasn’t going to run over five miles, I may as well not bother. So now, where do I put my pride when I go out for a *gasp* mile and a half shuffle? Why even bother? Where would my motivation to start from the beginning yet again come from after reaching such a glorious end? Well, it would come from where all my other motivation comes from. A grace of sorts that hits me in these circumstances and most when I just am not quite sure what will get me up out of the pit I’ve dug then subsequently thrown myself into.

So last night I was thinking as I came home yet another day and changed into my do-nothing clothes rather than get out and run clothes, and I decided that it would be a good place to start by running to daily mass. The church is on the other side of the park, a beautiful residential run that can be varied and expanded as I regain fitness. And it’s less than two miles away. What a great place to start, with not only a starting spot but also a definitive ending place. I run, I arrive. I run, I arrive again. Instead of talking myself out of the extra distance to shorten my circle to come back to the same place I started from. It will give me more time to think in the morning. I will start work later, arrive home later, lay on the couch less and go through my day knowing I’ve already gotten it done.

So I started this morning. And it was good. It was awful and ugly, but good to be back. The runners high after that whole seventeen minutes lasted all of mass. And I was surprised to find myself able to run home and faster than I had run to church. My body was happy to be back. I’m happy to be once again on the road to running. But for now, it’s definitely still a jog.