Last night I decided that today would be a fine day to run. The weather was supposed to be cooperative and the rest of the week looks wintry. I suited up and left my house at 7:30 am and started jogging down my street.
Boy, this feels pretty good. Nothing hurts. I'm breathing. I'm barely running and have to concentrate on maintaining a jog. The wind feels good on my cheeks as I roll up and down the gentle hills of Moosehorn. When I get to the corner (one kilometer), I throw up my hands Rocky style and head back home.
Three months ago when I attempted to walk/jog with Marty, I felt defeated. I was so weak, and my will was cringing under a rock. This morning, I felt like my old self, the old self that's been renewed several times and hopes this one's the keeper.