The path to running

Yesterday I felt like a runner.

I wanted to get dressed like a runner. The pants and top were easy, since that's kind of what I wear every day. But my regular winter hat and gloves didn't seem right.

This meant rummaging through the closet for my grey Under Armour hat and my black Nike running gloves, both thinner than normal stuff.

Does anyone have a closet that needs attention? Or rather, does anyone not have a closet that needs attention?

First of all, the coats and jackets are jam-packed and not all up-to-date.

There is my father's leather jacket and Joe's Tri- City Thunder hockey jacket, with his name sewn on, such a big present years ago. There is my mother's red coat and a blue, purple and pink silk scarf that still carries her scent four years after her death.

And there are the stacked sliding baskets that for a minute was well-organized with one drawer for each member of the household.

I ducked down under the coats and started pulling out drawers. I threw some things on the floor to deal with later. Mismatched gloves, hats with holes, and mittens that might fit a 10-year-old. Maddie took a liking to a turquoise glove and pranced off with it.

Much to my surprise, I finally found the hat and gloves that I wanted.

I went across the street to the track at Mount Holyoke. I started on the 1/3-mile loop that goes around the gated track. My hematocrit is 29 – better than it was, but still not great – so stamina is a bit of a problem even though I seem to have adapted to it.

I went once, then twice around. I went so slowly I wasn't sure that I actually looked like I was running until a neighbor and her daughter walked by and cheered for me.

I finished the third lap. One mile without stopping! And I felt OK.

It's nothing compared to the distances I used to run, but it's a lot compared to not being able to pick my feet up at all.

For my next activity, I'm going to have to take care of those closet drawers.