Yesterday, I ran.

Yesterday, I ran. If I had waited ten more days it would have been exactly five and a half years between it and the last time I ran.

Five and a half years without a single run when I once, and for many years, ran 3,6,10 miles, daily. My last race ever was on my 18th birthday. It was my first and only run as an adult – until now. Much to my surprise, not much changed in those 2007.5 days.

I expected to be drained within the first mile, unable to keep myself from stopping to catch my breath. But I didn’t. I felt strong. I mean, I had the recognizable pain in my chest and neck and jaw from inhaling cold air (even though the air wasn’t cold) but I had always struggled with that anyways, even in my athletic prime.

My legs felt strong, though – like they could go forever. I remembered exactly how to use them to get the most out of my stride without using too much energy. I remembered how to maintain my posture rather than hunching forward and tiring myself more. I remembered how use my hands, lightly pinching my fingers together like I was holding a potato chip. I remembered the breathing exercises I learned at cross country camp.

But what brought me the most pride, is that I remembered how to pace; something that I first learned ten years ago. I didn’t try to run at an under 7 minute per mile pace, like I would have in high school. I ran at the pace that made me feel strong and steady, without draining me excessively.

My first mile was exactly ten minutes, and my next was 9:30. Slow, but I was not disappointed. I was proud.

Because for years, I ran from running. I never wanted to stop, but I was afraid of running for a number of reasons. I was afraid to run by myself in a world that I realized is much more threatening than I thought when I used to do it in high school. I was afraid that my tendonitis and bursitis would reemerge. I was afraid of my heart issues and that I would pass out in the middle of the woods not to be found by anyone. I was afraid to get too exhausted, and have a panic attack, stressed that I am too far away from a source of hydration. I was afraid of feeling discouraged, weak.

But it’s not about that. You can only feel discouraged when you’re running for the wrong reasons. You can only feel discouraged when you’re running to compete with your peers or try to show your new cross country coach that you are as good as he thinks you can be without injuries.

You can’t be discouraged when you’re running to better yourself; to feel strong; to prove to yourself that you aren’t lazy.

I’ve been wanting to put my running shoes back on for a long time.

My cardiologist tells me that as much at the 20 large pills I take nightly have lowered by bad cholesterol, I can’t be truly safe unless I improve my good cholesterol. And I can either deal with the side effects and potential risks of niacin, or I can make a little extra time in my schedule and run.

Truth is, I haven’t decided which one it will be yet, but at least now I know I can do it if I want to. I can do something that for so long, I thought I could not.

And after I finished and crossed the bridge heading back to my car, I felt great. Well, nauseous for a minute, then great. I got home, laid down flat on the floor and got reacquainted with that feeling.

That feeling of being spacey but also like positively charged ions are pumping through my body. That feeling of numb strength in my legs, and the relaxed invigoration in my body. It feels exactly the same as it did five and a half years ago, and it never gets old.