I'm pretty sure when I get out of bed this morning, I'm going to hate myself for running (I'm writing this on Tuesday night).  I can already feel the stiffness setting in.  I'm pretty sure I'm going to be walking funny at work tomorrow too.

But... I did it.  I did Day 1 of the 5k plan, and I survived.

Let me walk you through it.
I strap on my Polar hear rate monitor .  I lace up my shoes.  The first 2 shirts I try on are way too small, at least I have stretchy pants that fit.  I eventually find a shirt that fits too.  I fire up the iPod and my Nike+ and find that miraculously all gadgets are in working order after a year of just sitting idle!  I'm thrilled... I know this is meant to be.

I head outside.  It is March 13th in Minnesota and it is pure sunshine and in the high 60s.  It is nothing but perfection for a run!  I start off walking.  I hear the Black Eyed Peas - "I Gotta Feeling".  I smile, I breathe in the perfect air, the perfect smell.  I tell myself I am probably looking like an idiot with that giant grin plastered across my face, then I tell myself I don't care.

I make it through my warm up and its go time.  Time to run for the first time in a year.  I brace myself for the horribleness of it, and before I can think too much I look and my 1 minute of running is over.  I walk a minute, I run another minute.  I think to myself I only have to do this 8 more times.  I wonder if I will live through it.

I turn another corner, and I think about all the times I've run down this street before.  I think about how things were so different then.  I slow to another walk.  "Don't Stop Believin'" comes on, and its time for me to run again.  I think about how every time I would hear that song on runs I would envision myself so super healthy, and pregnant, and having my dream come true with a perfect baby at the end.  I think about how I got every single thing I wanted... I got healthy, I got pregnant, and I got a perfect little girl at the end.  I gloss over the imperfect way of how we got there... that wasn't what I envisioned and today I don't actually care.

Today I am free, today I can run, and feel the air fill my lungs... but suddenly I feel a cramp in my side.  That doesn't feel too good.  I slow and walk again.  Just as it's time to run again, I look in front of me and I'm at a hill... of course, I would hit a running stretch at a hill... ugh!  I can't do this.  One.  Foot.  In.  Front.  Of.  The.  Other.  I think about how always hitting the hill exactly when I have to run is a metaphor for my life.

I see a scary dog with a muzzle.  I wonder why people actually have scary dogs as pets.

I see a place that was cleared of the old, scrubby, trees that used to be there late last summer, before Lily was born, when we used to take short family walks.  I think about how so much has changed since those walks.  I feel like cleared away dead trees is a good sign-the ground is already prepped for new life!

I round the last corner towards my house and realize that I only have to run for 1 more minute.  I break into a run and run like I mean it.  I hurt, but I will my legs to keep on moving.  I'm done.  I walk around for 5 minutes getting my heart rate back down, and I head into my driveway. 

I walk in my house.  I look at my husband and tell him that at least I'm not dead.  But secretly in my head I enjoyed the whole tortuous 30 minutes.  I remember what its like and even though I was slow, I remind myself that I'm still faster than the person that is still sitting on their couch.

Tomorrow, when I get out of bed and feel my jelly legs, I reserve the right to change my mind.

Run 1... Done!  And many, many more to go.