WEEK 1: Beginning

Miles this week: 0
Miles to date: 0

After years of thinking about it, I am finally training for the AIDS Marathon.

Years ago when I lived in Minneapolis, I sometimes would take my dog KC to the Uptown district near Lake Calhoun for our winter evening walks. Uptown was well-lit, well-populated and cheery, full of shops and restaurants and people, but still not too crowded for a pleasant evening stroll.

One night, as we were walking, I was struck with a sudden, inexplicable, POWERFUL urge to RUN.

It was 8:30 at night.
It was about 15 degrees out.
I was in snow boots and a parka.
And the sidewalk was piled with snow and ice.

I had never done any kind of running - in fact I'd never really exercised, in any way, at all. Well - dance lessons, yes. But nothing sporty. I was way too bookish and small growing up to ever dare attempt anything athletic.

It was the strangest, most unexpected physical sensation ... a bit like having had too much caffeine: tingly, uncomfortable energy in my arms and legs. Too much energy. I wanted to shake it out of me.

So. I ran. KC ran with me. I ran until I was tired, and then I walked. And then when I was done being tired, I ran some more. I kept doing this for about 30 minutes, until finally the antsy feeling in my body was gone.

I slept really well that night.

The next night we went out, same place, and because it had been fun, I did it again. Before long, I found myself timidly browsing the sports section of the bookstore, looking for books on running. I bought Jeff Galloway's "Galloway's Book on Running" (which, lo and behold, advocates a training program for the beginner alternating running and walking - and it is Galloway's method which is used by the AIDS Marathon trainers).

I bought a pair of running shoes, and I started taking myself to the lake after work. I loved being outside. I loved seeing all the people and all the dogs and all the LIFE around me, and I loved being part of it. I loved feeling my body working and getting stronger.

I learned that if I just did as much as I could, "as much as I could" very quickly and easily became more than it had been. I learned that exercise is a fabulous antidepressant. And I changed, in just a couple of months, from being bookish and inert to being, yes - a runner.

The most astounding part of all this to me, then and now, is that it really didn't require much effort. I didn't begin with lofty goals and expensive gear. I just ran in my snow boots down the sidewalk until I couldn't any more, and doing that felt good, and so I did it again, and it kept feeling good, and then it just seemed like it would feel better if I had appropriate shoes and a little bit of education. The whole endeavor was fueled nearly entirely by physical pleasure.

I realized that this was a great model for growth for me. Pleasure and fun are the best motivators; finding something fun, interesting or pleasurable in making changes in one's self and life that might be otherwise intimidating, affords one a much better shot at succeeding than focusing on the seeming impossibility of the goal and grousing around feeling scared, inadequate, and ashamed. Corny though it may sound, by maintaining a steady of goal of "just as much as I can, and then maybe a tiny bit more," I quickly found myself doing something, and becoming someone, I hadn't imagined possible.

I eventually stopped running because of a knee injury (by which I learned another crucial lesson: it's important to respect pain before it gets out of control). Even in recent years, I haven't been able to run regularly without my knee eventually tweaking out.

But I'm not worrying. I'm mindful of my knee - taking joint supplements and being ready to visit my nearest sports medicine doc should anything start to hurt. I feel good. It's so exciting to rediscover these lessons. It's such a damn treat to sleep well, wake up early, really use my body and then baste in endorphins in the sauna.

And particularly now, as I commit to running to raise money for the AIDS Foundation - I am unspeakably grateful for my health, for my body, for my ability to use it, and to enjoy it.