I ran a mile today. Big whoop, you say? I know. It's not very impressive. My little brother ran in a Ragnar race last month. He's impressive. I'm pathetic. But the last time I ran a mile without stopping or slowing to a walk was....maybe in 7th grade? I don't actually remember if I ran the whole thing or stopped for any of it. But I know I haven't done it since then.
And no, my time was not phenomenal. It wasn't even good. But it was a time. I have shown myself that I can. I can. I survived this thing that I have told myself I hate and that is beyond me for over 15 years. But today I did it.
It wasn't easy. When I finished, my lungs hurt, my chest hurt, my legs felt like jelly, I was sweaty, and I had to steady myself several times because I felt like I was going to tip over. But next time it will be a little easier. And there will be a next time. Because afterward -- after I got the feeling back in my legs and my heart rate returned to normal -- I felt great. I was tired, but invigorated. I was smelly, but proud. I want to get better, and so I will. I Can.
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