I ran. I went running. I got up on a Tuesday morning so I could run.

I went to PT on Monday and we did some exercises. That woman loves to just beat my quads and hamstings and glutes to death like it’s her favorite thing. It’s a little bit my favorite thing, too. Because it’s hard. And it’s physical. And it’s not me sitting on a couch waiting for the pain to stop. The harder I work, the less pain I have. And isn’t that point? So I push for one more until my muscles shake with effort and sweat is pouring into my eyes.

Last week we added some plyometrics. It was that first ridiculously nice day in Boston after the time change. All the runners were out, taking advantage of 55 degrees and full sun at 5 pm. Seeing all those runners I couldn’t help but ask “so when can I run”. And she said the magic words “very soon”. You can bet I stuck to my PT exercises all week.

Monday we did some warm ups and there was zero pain. She put me on the treadmill to walk. And I thought “this is so good. Walking is before running. I’ll walk today and then I’ll get to run on Wednesday!” And then she had me bump my speed up to a run!! It was for only about 2 minutes. Just long enough to evaluate my form and point out a few things in my stride. Then we worked a little more, doing this sliding lunge thing that is hard and uses so many muscles but is so good. And then she asked if I thought I’d have time to run that week. I said yes so fast, you’d have thought she offered me a million dollars.

After flying to Detroit Monday night for a quick 12 hour family thing, I was in the hotel bed at 2:30. And got up at 5 so I could run. It felt crazy, but what was 45 minutes more on a 2 hour nap. And I was going to get to run!

I ran 1 minute and walked 4. The running was great, the walking boring. But it was just me, a fancy treadmill in a sad airport hotel, and the pitch black that is 5 am in Detroit. Doesn’t matter. It was a run.