Except for a small ‘is this okay’ run about three weeks ago, I haven’t run for a month.

I cannot wait. I’m feeling pretty good, so I think I’m going to try a easy, slow, 10 minute run this weekend. I’m going to do my physical therapy stretches before and after, as a college buddy says that kept her okay when she was recovering from her foray into piriformis syndrome.

Among any given group of runners, it’s more likely than not that most of them despise the treadmill. A number of them will view it as something ‘real’ runners don’t do. Very few will say they like the treadmill. I don’t know if there are more than one in any group of 1000 that would say they love the treadmill. That one is me. I love the treadmill. I love the way I can force myself to run at a steady pace, I know how far I’m going, I know how fast. I love the way it keeps me running at a pace that I can’t back away from without making a conscious effort at changing it.  Don’t get me wrong – I find looking at the same place for my entire run completely boring. I still love the treadmill.

But it’s not the treadmill I’m looking forward to in this first 10 minute run in a month. It’s being outside. It’s looking forward and feeling the cold air and the hard ground beneath my yet-to-be-run-in new, free shoes. And it’s hoping that after my 10 minute run, I’ll feel okay, and be able to do 15 early next week, and maybe 20 by the end of the week. I’d like to feel like myself again, and I know Chris would like me to stop being, well, mad at the world.