I Ran

A Story by D

I ran today. 6:05am. It is the first time I have been running in months. I scoffed a bagel and threw on my sweatshirt. It was forty degrees but I told myself forty was the new fifty.

It’s a one-mile run to the track. I ran and I did not stop. I huffed and wheezed and told myself, “You should probably take it easy”. I did not stop. I’m pretty sure I threw up in my mouth a bit. Maybe I should have waited for that bagel to digest. I did not stop. My skinny legs felt tender each time my foot smacked against the asphalt. I did not stop. I did not wear my watch this time. I promised I wouldn’t time myself. “Comparison is the thief of all joy”, I have learned, even if you are being compared to a younger, more athletic, version of yourself. Two 3-minute songs later, I reached the track.

I was never much in tune with my breathing. I guess that is why people run. Nothing makes you feel more alive than fighting for your breath. I took short stifled breaths to no avail. My elementary school dance teacher would always have us focus on our breathing. “In through your nose”, she would say. “Out through your mouth” she would say 5 seconds later. I tried.

Inhale…………exhale……….inhale………..exhale.

The average (healthy) human can hold their breath for about 2 minutes. Those 5 seconds felt like torture. Then they did not. They felt doable. Then they felt tranquil. I walked around the track a few times and then home, happy to be breathing, happy to be alive.