Being healthy is hard. Being out of shape is easy.
I ran for the first time in two months tonight. I say that because the run I had about a month ago doesn't count. Previous to that, it was at least a month since I've hit the pavement.
Today, though, I just had to run. It's a beautifully warm evening, and it's raining. Plus, I'm finally over my cold/flu. It all seemed like reason enough to go out in the dark and go for a run.
The first run after a period of downtime always feels liberating, at least at first. I can't describe the feeling of running after days and weeks of walking. However, my body usually reminds me of how out of shape I am. Tonight was no exception. I initially felt great. Soon I began to slow down, my lungs shrinking, my legs tightening. The rain was invigorating. I wore shorts, a wicking long sleeve layer, and a tee-shirt. Moving quickly and wearing such light clothes was a big change from sweatshirts and windpants.
Eventually I plowed through some big puddles, soaking my shoes. The puddles are big enough to engulf the entire sidewalk, and the snowbanks prevented me from taking my normal path to avoid them. That's okay, though. It's raining. I love running in the rain.
On my return route, it started to pour. Hard. It's difficult to run with closed eyes and your head tilted towards the sky. Passing cars probably thought I was crazy. I think they're crazy.
I always try to charge up the hill at the end of my run. Tonight was like running up a waterfall. Not only was there a river pouring down sidewalk, but my shoes were soaking wet, gravity was in full force, and I was tired. I made it to the top, just not very quickly.
I sometimes try to imagine what I look like running down the side of the road. You've all seen a typical zombie movie, with staggering, slow moving zombies. That's me. I tell people I look like a corpse, wheezing down the sidewalk. I need to work on my stride.
My shoes are squishy. I should go wring out my socks.