The Worst Mile

I went into first mile thinking it would be the worst mile, but HOLY ____ (there are many words that could go there, most of them of the four-letter variety, I said them all, but the one that started with F was most frequently used)!!!

It was far from easy, and here’s why.  I’m not in shape.  Not remotely.  I have the lung capacity of a little girl and that’s not being disrespectful to little girls.  I was actually told that once by a nurse at a career fair.  Apparently it’s true.  It was only a mile, but I was gasping for air pretty consistently.

I’ll held up despite the fact that I was an interestingly bright shade of red at the end of the run.  Nothing a sports drink couldn’t cure.  It took some time before my body regained equilibrium.  More time than I would have liked, but I made it through and was, and still am, alive despite the first mile’s best efforts to end me.

The most interesting sensation came a few hours after the run.  Soreness set into most muscles and I experienced a new kind of headache, one that literally hurt my eyes.  My eyes have never hurt before, but it’s now clear that they dislike running as much as the rest of my body does.

I know you’re probably thinking I’m one of the weaker individuals on the planet.  That might be true, but I’m hoping it’s temporary.  The first mile has to be the worst mile.  There’s no explanation other than the fact that I don’t regularly exercise and running is torture to me.  It’s not fun and I don’t expect it to be.  But…

…I’m not doing this for me.  I’m doing it for Mo and for all the others that have battled or will battle leukemia.  I may not have fun doing it, but I enjoy it…even if I can’t feel the upper half of my legs.  The first mile was hard.  The next mile will be too.  They’ll all be a tough.  Not nearly as tough as fighting cancer.