Sure, I’d been nervous... but this is happening.
Before I know it, I’m down the hill and onto the straightaway, counting as I inhale.
One, two, three, four...
I can’t help but grin. I’m on my first run in weeks, testing to see how my ankle feels, and it doesn’t hurt at all. This is a gorgeous afternoon. The sky’s a vibrant blue and there’s a light breeze cutting through the heat. I am dripping sweat, though, but I don’t care. Not today. My ankle isn’t hurting and I still can’t believe it.
I continue counting as I exhale.
Five, six, seven, eight.
I don’t have to do that counting thing so much when I’ve been running regularly, but today I do. It helps me get into a rhythm and stave off any encroaching boredom. When I decided to go running today, I made a deal with myself to walk when I had to. And, if my ankle hurt, I’d be ok with calling it. So far, that’s not been anywhere close to necessary.
Rounding the corner to hop on the bike path by the water, I start jogging past the brick building and make my way along the train tracks. I shouldn’t be surprised at my lack of pain. I’ve tried to be smart about my recovery once I understood the full scale of the injury.
UGH I missed this.
Resting sucked but it seems to have paid off.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
309/365
How do you know when you're ready?
onward.
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