I started running today, after a relatively long hiatus. I didn't give up on exercise, instead deciding last year to focus on weightlifting. But I missed running, the steady, concentrated effort exerted over time, as opposed to the intense, short-burst effort of weight training. So I stepped out on the track tonight, for the first time in a long time.
Made it 1 and 1/2 miles, which is quite poor by my standards. I really thought the weight training would maintain my aerobic capacity at least a little, but I was very wrong. Not that I was ever a great runner, but there were times in my life when I regularly ran 4 to 5 miles, and long periods when I covered at least 3 miles a day.
For me, starting to run is like quitting cigarettes. I've done it a thousand times. Each time I go for several months, build up my endurance, then move on to something else. When I return to the track, I am back to the beginning, rewriting the oft-written running plan, this week 1.5 miles, next 1.75, 2.5 by the end of the summer, and on and on. When I limped off the track, I was reconstructing dreams of running a 10 k, maybe by the fall.
So here I am, at the beginning, again, wondering if I am too old for beginnings, but I don't have time to think about that. Gotta start figuring out a schedule.