The fact that I am writing right now says a lot about my enthusiasm for this run today.  

It’s not that I don’t want to run.  I do.  I wanted to run last night, but the locked gate ended that idea.  

No, I want to run.  I do.  I just don’t like running when it’s cold and wet outside and… it’s cold and wet outside.  

I’m a warm weather runner.  I don’t like the cold.  And it’s cold out there.

But still, I must do it.  I’m now a day late in my attempt to run a mile.  This will be my first mile since I had Achilles surgery just over 13 weeks ago.  

I mapped out a one-mile route just around the block here outside my home.  I’m a little nervous because now (and for the foreseeable future) I’ll be running on roads rather than on a cushioned track.  This route (like all my runs from home) begins going uphill, for about the first half-mile.  Normally that wouldn’t concern me (hills build character – I like running hills), but as a guy who was hurt, the thought of doing my first mile with a hill involved doesn’t thrill me.  I wanted this to be less taxing on my body to start.

Still, I have no choice.

Well, I could just jump on the treadmill.  I love running on my treadmill.  I could run on that things for hours (and have, plenty of times), but I just don’t think it’s smart to start running there yet.  I need to run at the pace my legs take me – not the pace I set on a machine.  

So, it’s out the door I’ll go.

I’ll get this over with now…

***

Yikes!  It’s only 38 degrees out there!

***

Well, I did it.  It wasn’t fun.  About a quarter-mile into the run, maybe less, my Achilles started to hurt.  I thought, “That’s not good.”  But then I soon realized that everything hurt.  

Roads hurt.  

Pound, pound, pound.  Ugggg.  

That first half-mile, uphill, wasn’t fun.  I was breathing very heavily.  It was cold.  The strong wind decided to make it even less fun.  

I felt better when I made the turn to begin to head home, but the pain and soreness didn’t really please me. 

Pound, pound, pound.

(I am certainly not light on my feet, and carrying (at least) an extra ten+ pounds on my frame doesn’t help.  At all.)

Pound, pound, pound…

The last .20 was especially painful.  I forgot what roads feel like under my legs and feet.  They didn’t enjoy this at all.  (“Don’t worry,” I told them.  “This will feel normal real soon.”)

Then I started to worry a little in my head,  “This seems to be going too quickly.  What if my “Map My Run” settings were on kilometers and this isn’t even a mile?”  

The end came in sight.

I am the type of runner who pushes hard to finish, but I know I can’t do that yet, so I slogged to the run’s close and looked at my stop watch:

9:02.

That seemed very fast.  Too fast.  I just ran a mile in 9:02?! 

At this point, I was really concerned that I only ran a kilometer.

I went back and checked the website.  No, it was a mile.  

In some ways, the run went quickly.  In others, not so much.  I’m icing the tendon now.

I did it!  I just ran my first full mile!