I went running with the dog last night. The first time ever, and the first time in a long time for me running at all. A combination of my various feet injuries and the attendant hard climb out of the ensuing sloth have kept me not running. I used to run a lot. And enjoy it! The feeling of victory after a long hard run around Kelly Drive was remarkable, and I miss it very much. A cold, misty day and steam rising off of my head and body when I finally stopped, the last rise up from Kelly back onto Main St. in Manayunk - like a ramp leading into the sky. I'd sprint as hard as I could, and leave absolutely nothing left in the tank, try and take off, right up and up. It felt so good to be completely used up.
Not so much any more. The dog was a fine companion, he's built for speed and my labored, dinosaurian plodding was nothing but a brisk trot for him. He could go infinitely faster and far longer and still not be tired. Once he figured out not to dart in front of me to sniff something on the other side of me (thus spectacularly tripping me) we ran together just fine. I didn't make it far or fast before I was done.
Still, it's good for the dog and it's good for me, so I should keep doing it. Next time *before* dinner though, I think!