That first run on Boxing Day was awesome and awful all at the same time! I walked down the road to the park, knowing it would likely be dark, but not quite realising the path would be pitch black. Nevertheless I jogged all the way to the end, turned around and walked back to the entrance, then repeated, jog to the end, walk back, then home.
It was dark and cold and uphill, and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face while I was jogging, in between trying to breathe.
Despite only walking home, I was out of breath when I got in. I looked at my phone app, a sum total of 0.7 miles. Wow, I had a long way to go.
But somehow I felt athletic. Nothing had changed. And yet everything had. Stood in the kitchen gulping at a glass of water, I felt different. I was a runner.