More precisely, I remember how to run.
I haven't run since August and have been working up to the day when I can do it. On Saturday I said, "Maybe tomorrow." Yesterday I didn't think so. After walking Maddie around the lake and doing some other things, I was tired in the afternoon and figured I'd call it a day. I lay down on the couch, covered myself with a cozy blanket and got a bowl full of chips. I figured I'd make a few phone calls and then take a nap.
I called Ben, but he couldn't talk much because he was on the way out the door to go running.
And that was all the motivation I needed. I came out from under the blanket, changed into running clothes, put on my running shoes, and, after a few stretches, was out the door as the sun dropped lower in the sky.
And then I remembered how to run.
I just went once around the paved lake (the path around the bigger, unpaved lake is covered with snow) and then ran back, for a total of a little over a mile. This is nothing compared to what I was doing this time last year while preparing for the St. Patrick's Road Race, but it was a start, and every time I take a break, I have to start from the beginning.
I went up the little hills so slowly that I might have been walking, except that I was using a running gait. I can't say that I got enough exercise to feel good, but I didn't feel bad either.
I told Joe that who knows, maybe I can train for St. Pat's. He said he didn't think that was a good idea. Actually, I think he said something more emphatic. I didn't really think I could, anyway.
Today, alas, I am sore.