Today was a day.
The good kind.
I went out to take my walk, as usual. Bradley came along and we hauled tail around the block, carrying on conversation, sharing our day back and forth when suddenly I realized we were just a few blocks from home and I hadn’t done the run part of the workout yet.
I turned to Bradley and asked if I could jog the rest of the way home. I’ll admit that I did that all full of hubris, all cocky and self assured, but on the inside I wondered if I had just said something that was going to leave me dry heaving on the side of the road.
Of course, my bearded beau just grinned and kicked up his feet, and off we went. At first I tried to keep pace with him, then realized I would never endure the run all the way home if I kept pace with him. I dropped back before my lungs started to freak out and so did he, keeping pace with me. I got slow. Like slooooowwwww-mo-Tamaraaaaa. But know what? I didn’t stop. Like, I jogged the ENTIRE WAY HOME. And know what else? I talked the whole time.
I kept waiting for that moment when I HAVE TO stop because my lungs are burning, my legs are jelly and I sweat like mad… It never came.
I have always heard that exercise pace is healthiest when you can carry a conversation. The whole time there I was testing that theory talking and chatting it up with him, just to see if I could. I could. I did. I jogged all the way home and burst into tears when I got there. So proud and so amazed by myself. I am in disbelief about my next sentence:
I can’t wait for my next opportunity to jog.
I feel ACCOMPLISHED. More determined than ever. I feel like a possibility. I feel worthwhile. I feel good.