I have not been for a run in nearly two weeks. My job requires a lot of standing, and when I get home my feet are sore and all I want to do is sit on my arse and read some Robert Jordan. Also, I get up before the sun rises and I get home after it sets, and the last time I ran in the dark I totally ate it and skinned half my knee. The only exercise I have been getting is on the weekends when I go hiking at South Mountain.
But I got out of work early today, and when I got home it was still light out and Pete was asleep. I put on my sneakers and jogging shorts so I couldn’t change my mind while I checked the celebrity gossip blogs, and then I set out for my usual route around the artificial lakes.
Turning a corner about halfway through my run, I saw a father and his two small sons, probably neither more than five, fishing in the lake. The father was doing something with one of the lines, and the older son was solemnly holding the second line while the little guy watched his dad. Right when I passed them, the younger boy yelled and I whipped my head around just in time to see him drop what looked like a small sunfish right onto the lakewall, where it flopped until it landed into the pond. “Aw, man,” the boy said, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
The only other people I passed were a middle-aged couple with their Queensland Heeler and a girl who was just leaving her house. She was dressed for exercise but was also wearing a sweater with a faux-fur collar, which stuck me as odd. I figured she was out for a walk, and it has been much cooler here lately and there is good reason for a sweater (Yes, it’s dropped below fifty degrees Fahrenheit at night and I’m calling it cold. I am officially an Arizona girl.)
That last third of my run was very difficult. The rule I have given myself about running is that I can run as slowly as I need to, but I am not allowed to stop or walk. I stick to this rule except under extreme circumstances, like when I see the great blue heron that lives on the lake, or when there is a full moon in the afternoon sky. My reasons for running aren’t so much my cardiac capabilities as my mental health, so pretty nature scenes take precedence over a regimen.
The only other reason I pause is stoplights. There are two on my route, one about five minutes in and the other about five minutes before I’m done. I like this method; some days I catch the lights and other days I don’t, so whether I push through or take a break is up to random chance rather than my willpower. Today I didn’t catch the light and I was grateful. Just as I stepped up to press the pedestrian button, the girl with the faux-fur collar came jogging up behind me and called out, “You were inspiring me! The whole way I was following you going, ‘Yeah!’” I grinned at her, surprised and gratified. I didn’t know what to say really, but I called after her, “Good luck!”
After the light turned green I sprinted home.
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