Once upon a time I was a runner. I started when I lived in Boston, with a mix tape on my Walkman that included the Pointer Sisters, when it was still called jogging.
When I lived in New York, I ran along the East River daily with a tall handsome Haitian man named Jean-Michelle. I ran 10K races in Central Park, including the New Year's Eve race that started at midnight and included a station handing out champagne instead of water.
In California, I ran on the beach to the Santa Monica pier every morning, watching for dolphins in the waves and forgetting for a brief time that I lived in a city.
I'd run in the rain and snow and when on vacation. Running was just a part of my daily life and I didn't think much about it, unlike skiing or scuba diving or sailing which I considered my real activities.
Then when I moved to Bend, I became an aerobics instructor and took my workouts inside to pounding disco music and emitted whoops! at regular intervals. I still trotted the river trail with my border collie occasionally, but really stopped running regularly as I began to enjoy the gym life and its social stimulus. When Henry came along, I hiked the local butte daily with him in a back carrier and Flash pulling us along. I stopped running regularly.
When we adopted Bindi this Jan. 1, I rehauled my entire morning schedule, taking her out in the freezing dark for enough exercise to take the edge off her relentless energy before she went into her kennel for the day. She stays in a big outdoor run now so the morning exercise is not as crucial, but we've stuck to it as it's becoming lighter and warmer. And I bought new trail running shoes.
So I've started running again, though I hesitate to call it that. It's more a walk/run/walk, and I'm working up to my first mile without stopping. I'm trying to resist the pressure I feel to improve push me so much that I don't enjoy it, and not to feel guilty if I keep to the walk part. It's s l o w l y becoming easier and I find I break into a jog more naturally than when I started. Bindi trots along, learning to stay to one side and out of the way. I don't think I'll be entering races again, but it's nice to experience that old feeling, from 30 years ago, when I lace up the shoes and head out the door.
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