Running hurts, but I’m not used to three miles of running hurting. Perhaps I should say that it has been a long time since 3 miles hurt. In fact, there was a time when I questioned whether or not it was worth it to lace up my shoes for a mere 5k. There’s a Greek word for that kind of attitude.
And just like Odysseus tied to the mast, I sailed too close to the siren’s song of fitness and did something I was not fully trained to do. That meant no running of any real substance since December. If you’ve wondered why I am crazy, wonder no more. A lack of endorphins will do that to a guy.
So I set out this afternoon so a short jaunt — or rather jiggle — to see how things would work out. They worked out. Or worked my legs at least. A little more than three miles in probably a little more than 30 minutes. I retain enough hubris to question if that even counts as running, but judging from the high which I have continued to enjoy this afternoon, it certainly does.