outside

One morning, at 6 am, the treadmills were taken. I could not wait, since I would use up the time allotted for running, and then I had to stretch, shower, make breakfast, dress, water the plants, drive to the office. I barely manage to get there on time as it is.

I ran outside instead. Or, more precisely, I tried.

The inside perimeter of the apartment complex measures one mile. I planned to run around three times, which would get me close to the usual 5K.

I only went around once. I had cramps in my legs after two minutes. I could not breath. I barely finished that one mile, and I walked half of the time.

I was horrified. I was depressed all day. Life was pointless, I was useless, this kind of thing. I was back to not being able to run one mile. It was my first setback in three months, my first since I started, and I had forgotten about setbacks. That they could happen to me too.

Next day I tried again. One mile, outside. It was better, but it was not good. I was depressed again. Horrified. It took me all day to conclude the root of my problem was twofold: (1) incline – the alleys around the units are steep, and (2) inability to gauge speed without the treadmill. I had gone off too fast.

I had to somehow deal with the problem. It was like having to start all over again. Did I say I was horrified?