It was somewhere around the 20th of August, 1998. I had just moved to Nebraska to start college and my roommate Andy and I were a couple of Kansas boys ready to take Nebraska by storm. One evening, between games of 007 on the Nintendo 64, we decided to take a jog. The weather was beautiful and we trotted around campus feeling the freedom of our new lives blow through our hair.
Over the last couple of years Andy has taken to running marathons and trail races.
That first semester of college is probably the last time I have run (without being chased). That is, until the other day…
Heather and I have been walking a lot this year and I’m losing weight and feeling good. I have never really been much of a runner, but on Thursday I got a wild hair and decided that for some reason it would be fun to try. So I did… barely.
There is a bike trail that runs immediately behind our house. Every tenth of a mile there is a little wooden post that marks distance. I decided I would run to one, walk to the next, run to one, walk to the next – you get the picture. I made it a mile, having run a half of one and I decided to head back. I jogged another 2/10ths of a mile on the way home.
Friday I went out again and ran 2/10ths before walking 1 and followed this pattern for awhile. I feel good about continuing to try to exercise, but to be honest, I didn’t really have any fun. My sister runs, I have friends, who run, but I’m not sure it’s for me. I’ll try it some more this week, but today I’m going for a bike ride – my shin splints are killing me!