I got up to 2½ miles one day last week, which is not where I want to be but better than zero, the point at which I restarted after kidney surgery last summer and a spate of prednisone-induced crippling leg pain.
It's no fun until you find your stride, but I am trusting that I will get through it.
A couple of days after I ran that distance, I set out to do it again. I am going on the upper lake because I figure if I trip and fall over a root or a stone, I am so slow that nothing much will happen. But also I'm paying careful attention.
It was hot on that second try, and close to the end of my second loop, I grew unsteady and totally lost my form. Then the voice of common sense came out of my mouth: "You're going to go flying"! I changed to a walk, and as luck would have it, a friend came running up behind me. We walked a bit together, and she said what I already knew. "No one day is like the other." Some days you have it, some days you don't.
Besides, there's nothing wrong with walking.
The saying is trite but true: "Better safe than sorry."