Coming from a family motivated predominantly by conservationism and creativity, I didn't have a big foundation in athletics, and it was never even suggested that I try track and field or soccer, though I proved to the the second-fastest runner in my middle school in a phys. ed. sprint tryout. Throughout my first three decades (apart from a brief stint at 23 when I found a really great workout video by Rachel McLish) it never really occurred to me to exercise.
In my mid-thirties, I had been living in a co-housing arrangement for some time with four friendly adults, all of whom had extensive social networks. One way or another, a friend of a friend needed us to look after their little Chihuahua/Jack Russell named Miles, and being dog people my friends agreed to take him in for a week while his human family spent time abroad.
Miles came in a kennel, and was left mostly by himself in the mudroom / dining area. Growling threateningly at first, he quickly warmed to me as I set treats closer and closer to him, and then finally passed them through the bars into his happy jaws. My friends, leaning toward the 'old blundering dog' type, weren't very fond of Miles because he was, well... spasmodic. Jack Russells have springs built in, and need a lot of running about to exhaust their curiosity and energetic spirits. So, having a heart for the little furry being locked up in a box without any attention, I started taking Miles out on 'walks' (which, at the dog's insistence, were far closer to 'runs').
Two walks became three, then four, and while the first few trots back toward the house found me feeling as though I was about to unceremoniously kick the bucket, after several days I realized I felt quite sensational. By the time Miles left for home again, I found I wanted to continue the trend of moving quickly, breaking a sweat, and feeling cleansed of something upon return. So I began to jog every morning, no matter what, and fell in love with it. I bought a pair of running shoes from the Kiwanis thrift sale, found a pair of jogging pants, and stuck to it.
At the time I lived in a very rural setting, and could take the side- and back roads that wound past farms, broad homesteads, wooded lots and rolling green fields. This fed my desire to continue, because I appreciated the sinuous snake trails I encountered along the roadside, rejoiced when the shadow of the hawk swept through mine upon the ground, and laughed a deep, spirit laugh when Sun Dogs flanked the sun in the afternoon sky. The fresh air was cleansing, nature was inspiring, and my body almost instantly craved the exertion.
As early spring began to unleash thunderstorms, I thought about the fact that I didn't want to have any excuse not to get my run in for the day, and I found myself signing up to a local gym 'just in case', for those days when it just wasn't safe or reasonable to throw myself around in the fresh air. A few days a week I worked out at the gym, and every other day I ran.
I had a lot to learn about what to expect of my body, and went through a series of backaches, limpy days and sore knees before figuring out that I had to get the rest of my body in shape to keep doing the running I loved. So I started experimenting with the Eliptical, the recumbent bike, the treadmill and the weights at the gym. I was timid at first with the weights idea, so I worked with a personal trainer for several sessions, just to make sure the regiment I had set for myself wasn't going to turn my muscles to raspberry jelly in three months. My trainer assumed, oddly, that I was already very athletic, complimenting my knowledge of nutrition and exercise plans. He told me I was one of the most informed clients he'd ever worked with, and consequently, he had far more faith in my abilities than he should have, and I ended up pulling my Trapezius - but it was only a minor setback. Soon I was running miles and miles (thanks to Miles) on the treadmill, doing the stepper like a madwoman, and meandering through the free weights in such a way that made even the old gymsters just assume I had been at it forever.
The best part of the whole experience has been the human interaction factor - being a very open, accessible and in-love-with-life sort of person, I'll take up a conversation with anyone that seems open to it, and in the process I've met men and women from all walks of life, of all ages and fitness levels. Eighteen months later, I know most of the people at the gym by their first names, and the act of working out, which in itself is a natural upper, is enhanced by the anticipation of seeing the faces I know and enjoy.
Even though I no longer live in the rural location that afforded me a blissfully wild outdoor running opportunity, I run in the out-of-doors whenever I can, and can't imagine a time in my life when I wouldn't continue to exert myself as I do now.
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