A few weeks ago, maybe before the Big Top, CoolBoss asked me about swimming, and after I gave my basic statistics, she said I should do the Danskin triathlon. So I said okay. It doesn't come across right in print. The clerk in Runners Roost (there's no apostrophe--is it a subject and predicate, or a misspelled possessive?) got the right tone when she asked me about my running habits. I said okay the way you'd agree to take in the neighbor's mail, as if it were nothing much, and perhaps with a hint of abashment. Is abashment a word? It should be. Oo, Merriam-Webster says yes. Good.
I bought sneakers, which I guess are called running shoes now? And shorts of some opaque but extremely lightweight material that does not chafe between my thighs, which, yes, touch. And socks of sturdier material than the nearly-mesh ones I bike and gym with. And an armband for my iPod.
Later than I planned today, at noon, but still without the heat I feared, I made my first attempt. I lunged past four buildings and walked the rest of the block to the park, and there I commenced to run, if it can be so called.
Yesterday at the store I ran on a treadmill and was filmed (happily only from the knees down) to check my stride. I do not pronate--my feet do not turn either out or in--which I knew from the wear on my regular shoes and I hope will not change with a faster stride.
Faster, but not longer. I have insufficient strength in my legs--in my quads?--to lift my legs into as long a stride at speed as I can at a pleasant walk. On a treadmill, I ran for maybe three minutes at 6 mph, which surprised me. On actual ground, for two miles rather than .3 of one, I was rather slower.
I had hoped I could run, however pitiful the stride, for a full mile--the park is a mile wide. I did not run one whole continuous mile, but I did mostly run, with walking interruptions, the whole distance, rather than a mile run and a mile walk. The interruptions were less than half a short block at the most and one was at the Thatcher Fountain for a quick drink.
Honestly I'm a tetch proud of myself. Sometime soon, tomorrow if I'm not hobbled, I'd like to use a treadmill to see how long I can keep up 6 mph in a controlled environment.
Jog 2 miles.
Later in the day I walked the dog, gingerly. Thursday I walked slowly because of cramps. Today I walked slowly because tired.
Three deaths, actually, which is nothing you don't know from the back cover. I am tired after a 3-mile swim but it takes 45' on an elliptical or today's run to make me weary. I was glad to spend the afternoon on the couch reading with a sleepy buddy. A short book, thank you William Trevor, that at first reminded me of Dogs of Babel (widowerhood with a dog) but soon much more of Last Orders and House of Splendid Isolation--death, only the edges of a story told, a few different perspectives.