I’ve recently started running again. I’ve been six times in the last two weeks!
Once upon a time I used to exercise… But that’s been a while.
That became very much apparent when I put on my exercise pants for my first run, and constantly had to pull them up: The elastic had been completely worn out, which means I hadn’t worn them since I was pregnant and attempting some pre-natal yoga and fancy things like that… um… that’s just a couple of years ago, really….
What started me off was my sister starting to run. She over-did it and got some horrible infection in her legs, but now she’s fine and back on track.
This taught me two things: 1. I can do it, too and 2. You don’t have to run a marathon on your first day (which is probably what I would have attempted in my enthusiasm. I can be like that).
My mother sent me an exercise program which is wonderful. Running alternates with walking, and very slowly you build up to longer stretches of running. You go three times a week for about half an hour, which I’ve even stuck to so far.
It feels so achievable, it’s something but not too much, so you actually do achieve something, and that’s what makes it great.
Now that it’s still light when Kaya goes to bed, I can go out in the evenings.
I love this time, just me, my music, the road (mostly empty, thankfully). The muffled thud thud thud of my shoes on the ground.
Half an hour just to myself.
I casually wave hello to the sheep in the field who look at me as if they’ve been waiting for me to jog past.
I love the air, my swishing ponytail, the views I am so blessed with, the wind, and the feeling that I am doing something for my body again. And for my soul.