so, i really did go running yesterday.

or, at least, i went out in the rain and trundled along at a fast waddle. my panting, bosom-bouncing scoot earning me more than a few glances from passing cars (i think i need a better sports bra), but i did it. for at least a whole kilometre, i did it. and magically, i did not collapse nor die in the doing.

of course, neither did i magically discover that elusive “runner’s high” that i hear so much about. i did get a wee thrill from the oxygen deprivation, reminiscent of the thin, strained feeling one gets right before one passes out from hyperventilation, but no identifiable “high.” pity. i could use a high, and the promise of it brings me sporadically back to jogging every year or two, for a few weeks. i’ve always suspected that runner’s high runs faster than i do. i galumph along chasing it for a bit…but it gets away on me, and then i forget about it.

this morning, however, it’s hard to forget yesterday’s little jog. i woke up feeling vaguely pleased with myself, like i’d done something virtuous and deserved a nice pat for it. when i glanced at the clock and realized it was ten after seven and we’d all slept right through the night, i thought that sleeping must be the good thing i’d accomplished. then i rolled over, and my bleary brain wondered why – and how – the cat was gnawing on both my legs under the blankets. when i realized that the cat was sitting across the room staring at me, i remembered. went jogging. yay. crippled now. ow.

turns out that walking around the house holding a baby whilst working out the lactic acid from one’s limbs is not fun. Oscar has learned a few new swear words this morning…but he is polite. he neither criticizes nor repeats…nice boy. i’m going to miss this baby stage when it passes.

as hobbled as i feel, i’m proud of myself. mostly just for following through on the commitment to go: i want to keep trying to be a person who actually does what she sets out to do. i’d like to set that example for O. but i’m also amazed, in a much deeper and less personal way, at the capacity of my body to adapt and rejuvenate itself. yesterday, as my legs plodded along the trail and my lungs opened up, i remembered that only five months ago this body was completely confined to a bed. for ten weeks, i lay around and watched my calf muscles atrophy. and yet here they were, despite a lack of any focused recovery effort, carrying me faithfully along at a pace twice as fast as they’re accustomed to. i’m grateful they didn’t dump me in a heap.

i will go again tomorrow.