No Stopping Now

Today I ran 4 miles. I almost didn't want to since I'd forgotten my iPod at work, and I had so much cleaning to do, and I am chock full to the brim with excuses, but I did it anyway and feel all the better for it.
It's lilac season and the Fens smelled like all of my best childhood memories. I crossed over to do the Riverway loop, and it was teeming with fluffy goslings. You really can't beat that kind of a cotton candy a rainbows evening. Not having music made me more aware of my surroundings, and looking up at the street signs that read "NO STOPPING ALLOWED" was oddly inspiring. So I didn't stop. Except when I would have otherwise been run over, which I think is fair.
No music also made me more aware of my own stride and my breathing pattern, which made me realize I really wasn't nearly as winded as I'd thought. And it also made me start humming very odd songs to myself, like old stuff from church camp, folk songs, stuff my mom made up, Christmas Carols. Before I knew it, I was home and couldn't feel my toes or my right arm.
Maybe it's just my low expectations of myself, but I'm still pretty excited that I can run more than a mile. I never in a million years thought I'd be able to run four. It's really shown me that just because something is possible, doesn't mean it's possible NOW. I always thought three miles was such a short distance that I should be able to do it right away, and that's the kind of thinking that has been derailing my progress for the last several years. It wasn't until I found a plan that enforced slow progress that I started to make any progress at all.
I am a slow learner at physical things. It always took me far longer to learn dance combinations, it took me three months to learn how to dive, and I fell thirty-seven consecutive times before I finally got up on waterskis for the first time. But you know what? Most other people would have quit long before I did. I had to get rugburns on my feet from practicing, spend hours at a time in the deep end of the pool, and faceplant into a lake thirty-seven times in a freaking row. And in the end, I accomplished what I set out to do. That, is the important thing. So I will continue to pat myself on the back for baby steps.