A Cold Morning Run

The streetlight shines in through the window blinds as Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" begins playing on my alarm. What a perfect song to describe this process of marathon training. I let it play for a few seconds longer as I allow myself to slowly wake up. Asha, on the other hand, is up immediately and staring at me beside the bed, waiting to go. The warm baby beside me deep in sleep snuggles in closer and I take one more minute to breathe in his peacefulness. Then, I slowly slip out of bed and quietly sneak out of the room with Asha excitedly following behind me. Checking the weather to see how many layers I need on, I begin to get dressed and eat a banana. I've learned that I need to eat something small before heading out. After layering up, I slip on my shoes, tie them on, grab the dog's leash, and head on out.  It snowed last night, and something about making those first tracks in the snow is magical. It's so cold out that the streetlights in the distance are making a sort of "city northern lights." The light dances on the glittering snow as the few people that have already started their day drive by. But, this isn't the time to sit and admire the cold beauty of winter. I start running before my legs and body get too cold. Asha runs beside me, and together we take in the cold morning. 

It's hard today. My legs feel heavy and I have to remind myself to control my breathing. I am supposed to run for 20 minutes straight today. Around 8 minutes, I start to feel my body wanting to stop. I convince myself to keep going. I look at Asha and see she's struggling too. Her hips aren't doing so well and this exercise is hard for her too. At 10 minutes, Asha refuses to go any further and stops to poop. I run on the spot until she's done. At 12 minutes, I need a break. Surprisingly, my lungs feel fine. My asthma is not getting the best of me today. But my legs and muscles are screaming at me. I am learning to listen to my body. So, I walk for 1 minute and begin to run again. When I am almost home, I just want to stop. I am tired. My muscles are complaining. I look at the time left. 1 min, 22 seconds. I can do that. I keep going and finish strong. I walk up my stairs to my still sleeping household with a sense of pride. Little by little, I am doing this. This is only week 3 and I am already running for longer than I have ever run in my life. I open the door as E and mrblueberry wake up and think to myself, "This. I love this life."