It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

Talk about testing my limits . . .

When I declared that jogging a mile would be one of my fitness goals for this week, what I failed to share was that the last time I had run a mile was for my high school physical fitness test. Which was over ten years ago. Yeah, I knew it would be a challenge, but hey, I’ve been exercising! I’ve been eating well! I’ve been trying to fake my way through push ups! I’m totally in shape! Whooooo!

I was visiting my mom for the weekend, so we made a trip out to my old high school. Despite the 80 degree weather and the midday sun fiercely beating down on me, my spirits were high as we trotted up the hill to the track. My mother parked herself in the bleachers to watch (smart woman) as I found my way to the start line.

Looking back on this moment, all I can say is, What was I thinking?!!! Again, the last time I ran a mile was in high school when I just barely passed that portion of the physical fitness test, clocking in at the maximum allowed time of 10 minutes 30 seconds. Yet, there I was on the start line doing hamstring stretches with a confident smile like I was expecting to qualify for the Olympics.

Riiiiiiiight.

The high school track is a quarter mile long. I swear it looks longer, but still, at that second I was sure I could totally conquer it.

I jogged the first lap. I made sure to keep my pace moderate so I wouldn’t spend everything too soon. Slow and steady, right? At first I felt great, but in a very short amount of time I found myself having trouble breathing. Controlling our breathing was never something they covered in gym class so my breaths weren’t rhythmic. They’re just loud. I panted heavily as I crossed the line for the first time.

I jogged the second lap as well, albeit a hell of a lot slower. My body was in full ache mode by then, shocked by this crazy running thing I was trying to do. I gasped for air the whole time. I mentally argued with myself over how bad it might be to quit after only a half mile. As I passed by my mother, between erratic shallow breaths I yelled, “This sucks!”

“You’re half done!” she hollered back. Which, while encouraging, didn’t prevent me from walking the third lap.

Even though walking was much easier on my muscles and my body actually wanted to break back into a run, my lungs felt like they were shriveling up in my chest. I wasn’t doing so great. The warmth of Mr. Sun wasn’t helping my situation either.

By the fourth lap I was jogging again. Already drenched with sweat, I was determined to make or beat my pathetic high school run time. I hit the third turn with an untied shoelace and began walking again. As I rounded the last corner I began to sprint, deliriously happy to see the finish line up ahead. 

At 10 minutes 40 seconds, I collapsed in the grass next to the track and thanked every deity I could think of that I had survived.

I had done it!

I could take only labored shallow breaths and couldn’t stop coughing, but I had done it!

I made funny noises when I tried to inhale, but I had done it!

I couldn’t get up and was fairly certain I’d have to crawl the cool down lap (instead I skipped it), but I HAD DONE IT!!!

So yeah, I managed to run a meager mile on a completely flat, paved track in a little under 11 minutes.

But I didn’t croak.

I’m calling that a victory.