The Wind at My Back: End of Week 1

It has been a little over a week since I decided to hit the ground running again. While it has been only a short time, I am proud of myself for staying disciplined and getting out there every evening — and even a few mornings before work. As C.S. Lewis once said, “What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step.”

To sweat feels pleasant. To hear my lungs gulp in fresh air is a song — all the while trying not to swallow red, beady-eyed kamikaze cicadas nose-diving from a nearby loblolly.

Progress (5/24 – 30)

Friday Saturday Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday
35 35 10 45
20
30 20

To a serious runner, this amount of time may seem like a drop in the bucket. To me — someone who hasn’t seriously exercised in two years — it is an exceptional start. What I see above isn’t just 205 minutes of logged running. It is a transition from the sedentary lifestyle I have lived since my daughter was born in 2011 to an active one.

As someone who has been physically active his entire life (I was never a gym rat or runner per se but I have always played basketball religiously), I suddenly fell into a lifestyle that was not only negative in regard to my health and well being but also exhausting mentally. I was zapped of energy when I woke in the morning and zapped of energy when I went to bed. Even during the day, I felt lethargic.

I’m changing that now, one step at a time.

I’m re-claiming my energy and peace of mind, for myself and my children. When my daughter Annabelle was born and began to sprout up like a beanstalk (she is now 2), I felt as if I was being selfish if I took off out of the house to play basketball or jog a short distance. I understand now, “me time” is okay. It’s good. It’s healthy. It’s better for me as a person and as a parent.

My daughter wants a dad with energy, one that can dance a jig with her to the Ramones (yes, I’m brainwashing her with good music from a young age) for thirty straight minutes without having to sit down because my lower back is acting up on me again.

Now that I have a son, I need to come clean, too: ever since I was a young lad, I always envisioned one day I would dunk on my son when he was fifteen or sixteen. A nice, drop-step dunk — two handed tomahawk. I would be the old guy who still had a little hops after all these years.

It can still happen.

There’s still time.

There’s still some bunnies left in these legs of mine.


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  1. Thanks. I’m trying. I put in another 45 minutes after you all left yesterday and 30 today. This is the first time I’ve ever run for the sake of running. It feels good to just do it.

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