Part Two
(continued from previous post in which I surprise myself)
I stretched diligently, and for a good half hour, after that first "run". Even so, there is no need to describe the inevitable pain I was in afterwards, since that's surely a given. Muscles used in new ways like to make a big noise about it, and then make other prosaic things difficult - like bending over, or simply walking around the house.
However, it did start to get a little easier each day. Hm, "easier"? Let's just say I noticed improvement as my body got more used to this new way of getting around. I stopped to walk a lot less, went incrementally further from home on each outing and gradually achieved a style that I can pretty confidently call "running". In the olden days we'd call it jogging and this is probably a much better description, but, one must be up to date.
I even overtook another runner one day. Turns out she was just slowing down to check her iPod, then she passed me a few minutes later and I never caught up to her again.
Then there was that cute time I did a little dance with girl taking a brisk walk. I caught up to her at the base of a set of stairs, running along the approach as she walked.
I'd learned the hard way, the first day, that I wasn't fit enough to run up stairs without completely exhausting myself. So I dropped into a brisk walk at the foot of the first flight. But the walking girl started running. She trotted up the first flight and overtook me. On the flat of the landing I ran again, overtaking her as she walked. Then I walked again up the next flight as she up ran past me again. And so we did this serendipitous little zig-zagging motion. It was a sweet moment of perfectly coordinated, lucky timing that I almost wish I'd been able to step back and watch. It reminded me of a dance performance I once saw on an escalator at the Tate Modern.
As it was, I was happy to be the participant this time. More and more I'm thinking running isn't completely shit.
...third and final part continues...
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