Rather be Running

180 steps per minute, no matter how fast or slow you go. It's a tough thing to do, especially since my normal inclination is to move my feet much more slowly. But now I'm counting my steps, moving the old legs as fast as they'll go. Counting the right-foot-forward movements, trying to get up to 90 of those in 60 seconds, I begin by dividing things up. I try for 45 in 30 seconds, 30 in 20, and so forth. The pain in my back, my left leg, my right Achilles are all a distant memory. Did I mention that I'm gasping for air? That's my concern at the moment, and it's so much better than dealing with pain. This is anaerobic exercise to the hilt.

Okay, that was yesterday, and it was in the pool.

I've been hitting the pool regularly, swimming and pool-running, and I'm sure it's doing me good. At least it feels good, and it's certainly better than nothing on one side, and hurting myself further on the other. And I'm doing other stuff too: more weights, pull-ups and core work than ever. It's all good. But there's one problem: it's not running. I'd rather be running.

Today's workout is beginning slowly. I put one foot in front of the other and begin moving. It's not too painful, so I begin moving a tiny bit faster.

This time I'm outside, running on terra firma, and loving it. I'm in the park, noticing the deer, the dark woods, the fields of goldenrod, the sunrise.

The run was just a shuffle, and it was only for a distance of two miles. And it was painful. But it was a run.