This morning I woke up at 7a.m. and readied myself for a run. I haven't been running outside for some time due my quirky aversion to falling on ice. Today was beautiful. My goal was to do an easy 6 miler. All signs pointed to a perfect morning as I put on my shoes -- GTC graciously woke up early, O didn't complain about me leaving, the girls were still asleep -- but then. Of course, something usually gets in the way. I now think some part of me creates obstacles for myself when somewhere deep inside my body or mind doesn't really want to run. The problem was I really needed to go...potty...but my body wasn't cooperating. I know many runners wake up early in order to take care of this bodily function. But I couldn't. There is nothing worse than being in the middle of a course and having an emergent situation. I won't get any more graphic. Deciding I had to get moving now or never I went ahead out the door despite my body's slight discomfort. I accepted that if I could only do 3 miles it was okay. Around 7:15 I departed.
As soon as I walked outside I knew that would not be okay. The sun was shining. The air was clear, crisp, exhilarating. Then my mind hatched a plan. I would run 3 to the rec center, take care of business and finish off with at least 3 miles more. Today I felt like I could run forever. Perfect plan. But then. Another snag. I approached the doors, the ones that automatically slide open and just in time, too. But they didn't open. The rec center doesn't open on Saturdays until 8. I walked around for a couple of minutes trying to decide how much more I could manage without relief. I decided just to wait it out at the front door.
It was here that I encountered a woman waiting. A very friendly, morning person. She immediately greeted me with a hearty "Good Morning!" along with about 5-7 rapid fire questions/comments. I thought to myself, "just my luck. My rhythm is interrupted. I have to poo AND I have to endure this mindless chatter of a stranger." But something interesting happened as she continued to talk. I started to relate to her. I learned about her recent divorce, her age (64), her struggle with weight gain, her recent weight loss of 34 pounds, her niece's passion for running, her friend who had gastric bypass surgery. And this was all in less than ten minutes. I started to see her face morph into that of my mother-in-law. A woman I both admire and love. Then more people began to gather at the door waiting for the building to open. A young gentleman joined the conversation. I thought him only polite at first because the others in line were avoiding eye contact and awkwardly ignoring the talking woman.
The man who joined us then said, "I have lost 195 pounds in the last 18 months." I was immediately interested. The friendly woman began asking questions one of which was "HOW?" The man replied, "I hate to call it a lifestyle change because that's too simplistic. I mean I have changed my daily routine, of course, but even people who aren't overweight should probably do that. I still have 40 pounds to go to get me to 235 -- but that's half my body weight when I started. I have had to change my entire relationship with food. That was the key." I was awestruck because this is exactly what I've been saying for the last several months. The two of them continued to talk and I sort of phased myself out and retreated into my own thoughts. I was standing there amazed that this annoying delay in my wonderful run had turned into a pretty cool moment of awareness.
When it comes to health everyone has their story, their challenges, their issues. But it's all the same whether you are a 64-year-old recently divorced woman, a twenty-something man wanting to lose an entire 235 lb person, a runner, someone with an illness or disease, a wound tight heart attack waiting to happen or a couch potato. Food might be your weakness. Caffeine might be your vice. Type A personality might be the undoing of your good health. Kudos to the two people I had the good fortune to meet today and to anyone else making any change, no matter the size, toward better health.
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