I am not a jogger. I hate to jog. I don't just not LIKE jogging; I don't just not CARE for it. I. Hate. Jogging. My lungs burn. My legs hurt...for days. It's not fun. At all.
However, my husband's exercise of choice is running. Even before he came back to the farm & he was an engineer, he would take time after work or during his lunch-hour to run. No, he's not a marathon runner. He's never even done a 5K. He just likes the work-out that a short run gives him. Now, he runs all over the farm and still likes to take a jog after work.
Me? I'm more of an elliptical person. I love my elliptical. I'll put in my headphones & listen to a couple of Christian podcasts while I run that machine into the ground. I get off of it 45 min to one hour later sweating like crazy and feeling good.
So, I don't know what possessed me on Sunday afternoon when my husband said he might go for a run and I piped up, "I'd like to go, too." His look of surprise mirrored my feelings. After a bit of a nap, I impatiently got up and started getting ready to jog down our lane. This lane has conquered me before. I have run it a few times only to confirm my loathing of the exercise. My husband got ready and before I knew it, I was outside jogging.
Ok, well, it was probably more of a fast walk with arms flying. My husband and daughter quickly moved ahead and left me picking the dust out of my teeth. I had no idea how far Eric was planning on running, but I was determined to do the same. Because I'm a person who gets overwhelmed with the far-reaching goal, I kept my eyes to the ground immediately in front of me, raising them only once in a while to gage how much further I had to go.
My lungs were burning. I was breathing hard. I had gone about 10 feet. But, I was still jogging. So far, success.
I reached the trees that line the lane for a few yards. I was about five minutes into the jog and Eric and our daughter were specks in the distance. I suddenly heard footsteps approaching. Fast footsteps. Running footsteps. My eight year old son had run from the house and caught up with me, rather quickly. He then stopped running and walked along side me as I continued jogging.
Did you read that? I said, he WALKED along side me as I continued jogging. Sure, he had to "run" to catch up with me a couple of times, but I think he only did that to make me feel better.
When his dad & sister came running back towards home and passed us, my son turned to go with them. Doubtless, he saw his father as more his speed. I heard my sweet husband encourage Seth to stay with me. Obviously, there was some concern that I'd end up unconscious in the middle of the deserted country lane with the hawks flying over me. My dutiful and loyal son obeyed & watched over his poor mother.
I reached the hill where Eric had chosen to turn around. I continued to jog. Seth now was doing a glorified fast-walk with a bit of hopping to make it look like he was jogging. It was obvious I was holding this kid back. I told him he could run, but he thought it wiser to stick with me. Those hawks were gathering in numbers.
I saw that I was approaching the end...where I began. My lungs burned. I breathed heavily. My legs ached. I kept thinking of how much I hate running, yet how badly I needed to finish this run & not give up.
I finished. I ran the whole mile. I did something hard and didn't quit. It felt good.
And, do you know what? I went back out today and I enjoyed it.
This time, my 11 year old daughter ran beside me; not walking, but jogging. My lungs were not burning and my legs didn't hurt as much. I felt a bit better about myself...until I realized that my asthmatic daughter was having an easier time breathing than I. She was also wearing flip-flops & still keeping pace.
Where DO these kids come from?
Maybe I don't quite HATE jogging anymore. I still love my elliptical, but it might be fun to jog a few times a week.
I can't believe I just said that.
Maybe if I keep at it, my son will actually break a sweat and my daughter will find it necessary to actually put on sneakers to keep up with me.
I can dream, can't I?