Run With Me

"Walk one, run two..."

I huffed as I looked ahead and strained my neck to see the if the marker was within sight. Up ahead I could see the familiar diamond HOV marker on the pavement; a symbol that I could slow down to a comfortable walk and finally get some needed oxygen to my lungs. The two mile loop of the park was shared by pedestrians (with and without canine companions), cyclist, equestrians, and motorists. It's a picturesque path where old oak and maple trees create a canopy overhead, shielding me from the sun and funneling the wind to a comfortable breeze. Where the line of trees end, the path opens to a rolling meadow where one could spy a heard of deer, couples on a romantic picnic or sometimes a solitary rider atop a magnificent horse.

"Hhhhhhfffffffffff." I swear, moments like these I am convinced that I only have one lung. "How can you run 26 miles when I could barely run a fraction of a mile?" I asked. I was thinking of my friend Sarah who had ran two marathons. "Crazy." I said, and I was convinced of it.

My mind drifted to random thoughts.
"Inay will be 65 this month. I wonder what I should get her. It must be raining there now. I wonder if the gutters were fixed. She'll let me know when I call her. Wait a minute, I haven't called her for a while now. S***. Another thing I forgot."

The wind was blowing ever so calmly at my face and cooling me off. I closed my eyes a few moments longer, not wanting to look at the approaching diamond marker again. I thought of the several compelling reasons why a person who hates running was now in fact doing a light jog.
"I hate running." I muttered as I gingerly stepped on the white paint. "Run two, walk one, run two, walk one, run two, walk one..." like a mantra it consumed my head and my eyes squinted to sharply focus at marker, my legs carrying me closer to the end.

I have to reach the second marker soon or somebody have to haul my exhausted body to a back of a truck and out of this park. I have to finish this. I lost one pound last week I can lose another this week.
"Maybe that one pound was my lung. It has to be. How come I can't breathe?" I shook my head. Of course I could breathe, it just hurts and I was being a baby. I raised my arms up over my head. "C'mon lungs, don't fail me now."

I have to focus on the task... "F***, I have no air." I stopped short of my goal. Defeat. "Running is a f***ing mind game. I have to overcome ME before I can overcome this f***ing mountain." I could hear Carole saying, "You really curse like a sailor."

"Maybe tomorrow it will happen." I said, looking for that tenacity to finish a task. With my shoulders slumped and my head hung low, my legs walked my weary body to where I had parked my car.

I sat my tired butt on the seat and turned my cd player on. I needed to hear something other than myself in my head. And like a hero to the rescue I heard the beginning chords of "Change For The Better."
"Yeah, that's better."
I sat like that, with my head down and elbows to my knees, for a good while and just let the music pace my breathing. I closed the door and started to head home. What took forever to run/walk took less than five minutes to drive. Life is good.