Something strange happened this summer. I started jogging.
Did it take a global pandemic to make this strange occurrence happen? More than likely.
Granted, I did no-impact cardio at the gym but once everything shut down, my exercise routine changed. It was maybe a walk or sometimes yoga. Fortunately, my body won’t let me sit too long or I get antsy. I’d find myself watching 18 wheelers go by and wonder where they were headed. RVs started to flood my state — much to the ire of residents — but I understood why. People wanted to move. They wanted to feel safe. Most of all, they wanted to get outside. Mother Nature is very clever.
I‘ve always loved to walk. It was a great stress reliever from my chaotic childhood and whenever I need to clear my head or feel anxious, I head outdoors.
But I needed more cardio so one day I said, Okay, let’s see how this feels. I jogged a bit. Stopped. Walked. Did it again. Everything seemed to be in one piece and I thought, Maybe I’ll try that again sometime.
So I did. Then again. And again, extending my distance a little bit each time while realizing the stationary cardio machines are b.s. When I have to actually move my body with the elements, it’s a whole different story.
I’ll jog every few days, never pushing too far so my body can acclimate. My mind is such a funny character; she’ll complain and I’ll redirect. She’ll complain again and I’ll focus and redirect, complimenting my progress. If I don’t go as far as I did during a previous jog, she grows critical. I redirect. It’s a fabulous form of meditation!
If you had told me a few months ago that I’d start jogging, I would’ve been like nah, I’m good. Believe me, this is not my favorite form of exercise — but I love how it feels afterwards. I love knowing that my body is able to do this and limitations are based in the mind. If I give my body a chance, she shows me that she is stronger than I ever realized and that I don’t necessarily have to hop in my car to chase feeling free.