Clydesdales and Connections: Or How I Got Off My Duff

I ran yesterday (with "ran" being a relative term).  Yes, this jogging clydesdale got out of the stable and jogged.  Evening was just beginning. The air was cool, but not crisp.  Three deer through the undeveloped part of our subdivision.  Neighbors waved. No one pointed and laughed.  I was thrilled beyond words.

When I first lost the weight and started to get fit, I did not want to run.  I did not want to exercise.  I did not want to sweat.  I was convinced that I was not a sports guy.  I don't follow sports.  I don't care about sports (with the notable exception of the high school football team where my brother is head coach. Go Devils).

I WAS NOT AN ATHLETE AND I DIDN'T WANT TO BE ONE.

But something had to give.  I knew I'd have to do something along the exercise spectrum.  Diet wasn't and isn't going to get me there by itself.

So I ran.

And I loved it.

I can't begin to describe my surprise, my delight, or my joy I discovered in running.  I found I liked to sweat.  I liked to breathe hard.  I liked to push myself for one more minute or one more lamp post or one more trail marker. And I found that running is the just about the only thing I have that gives me the same satisfaction and release of stress and emotions that eating does.

I miss it.  I think about running a lot.  I consider myself a runner though I am still too large to really enjoy it the way I want to.  But I thought I had to give it up until I got down to some arbitrary poundage.

A few days ago, I posted a stationary bike workout on Dailymile.com and said that I dream of the day when I'm small enough to actually run.  An online friend from Australia commented that, really, I could run if I take is slow.  Unless I have an injury that is.  And that was the start of this rabbit trail.

I wrote a private message to my friend and shared about my leg/ankle break back in '08 and how I'm afraid of aggravating the left over damage if I run this heavy.  I wrote a bit about my background too--my weight loss and weight gain; the stress of '10.  I shared the smallest sliver of myself, not knowing how it would be received.  See, I don't know her well at all.  What we know of each other is by the mutual encouragement one gives and receives on Dailymile.  Did I share too much? More than a semi anonymous friend should? 

To my delight, she responded with acceptance and encouragement. She also shared the smallest sliver of her own struggles.  And there was just this...something...about our exchange that wanted me to get out and try.

My weight was keeping me from doing one of the things I know I enjoy and I know will be positive toward my health.  Or was it?  Was it the fear of injury?  Was it the fear of success? What was it?  I didn't have the answers to these questions.

So I decided, at 2:37 PM yesterday afternoon, to run.  And that evening my wife and I went out. I decided to run week 1 of the couch to 5K program.  One minute jog followed by 90 seconds of recovery; repeat for a total of 8.  I took it very slow, not much more than a walk but with the cadence of a jog (if that makes any sense).  I was mindful of my posture, of hitting midsole instead of heel striking.

I had decided to see what I can do, instead of thinking about what I can't do.

And guess what.  

I can do.

But more than that, I must also take a moment and marvel at how I got here, by a simple exchange between two people who barely know each other.  I have made a lot of friends online, most of whom I'll never, ever meet IRL.  Most of whom I'll never, ever get to know beyond the simplest connections--comments on blogs; comments on boards; the occasional email; the very rare phone call. 

I would never be where I am if it weren't for these friendships.  It is an invaluable source of encouragement and camaraderie.  I marvel that so many of you keep coming back to the stable and read the randomness I put up here.  To all who regularly stop by and comment, know that I do, indeed, count you among my friends. Thank you, one and all.