It's with some amount of pride that I can say that whatever curveballs fate, karma, or plain stupidity throw at me, I am able to bounce back and return to running, that much older and wiser. Well, older, at least. This Big Comeback, like all comebacks, begins with the first step of the first run.
I am out the door. I don't know what will be in store for me today, but I don't plan to push the envelope too very much. Maybe one to three easy miles, tops. Wednesday's debacle caused me to miss my runs two days in a row, something I hadn't done for months. It's been a month, in fact, since I've missed even one day. I reach the street, and then I take that first (running) step.
Ouch. Second step. Ouch. And so on. My boobs are bouncing, and my left one, the one with the stitches, smarts. Bouncing boons is something a runner of my gender doesn't usually need to be concerned with. And this sort of 'bouncing back' isn't the type I thought would be much of a problem today.
Eventually, I slow down a little, and the pain seems to subside. I run only two very slow miles. That's enough bouncing for today. Maybe I'll be able to bounce back better tomorrow.
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