Renewing the routine

Tonight I had several post-work, post-physical therapy options: Join a friend who was in the mood to celebrate at a bar, go to a potluck dinner out of town and catch up with friends I haven't seen in awhile, go home and catch up on sleep, or go to the gym for a jog/walk.

Not too surprisingly, I chose the gym, where the red track and I are becoming fast friends despite my initial lack of excitement about it. At 9.1 laps to the mile, the soft, rubbery surface is kind to my knees, as long as I am kind to them and don't attempt any pace faster than 12 minutes per mile.

Once I get warmed up, it requires serious effort to hold back on the straight-aways, where the supportive surface makes it too easy to fly around, and before you know it, you're sprinting near top speed, in a race with yourself with no finish line.

There are all kinds of people on the track, from walkers to 6-minute-miler military types to tiny skipping children. That's one thing I love about running -- it's all inclusive. It's one of the simplest movements the human body is capable of -- it doesn't require any special equipment or clothing -- and yet it can be one of the most difficult activities of all.

That's what I was thinking as I paced around the red rubbery loop tonight. Thinking, I couldn't even walk without pain six weeks ago. Now I am jogging causally around, breathing easy and dreaming of spring and a warm, sunny run down the Avenue of the Pines.

Now I am walking up and down stairs with ease, driving my car without a struggle. But I do it all with a new gratefulness, with the knowledge that it could be taken away in a flash should I sway from routine, or push my muscles too hard, and toward injury again.

And although the track is slightly underwhelming with its pervasive rubber smell, the cool wind tunnel effect created when multiple people are using it, the lack of scenery and the *ahem* people who stroll two or three-abreast in the running lanes, it is the place that, after my winter work day is done, I'd much rather go to than anywhere else.

While going out to socialize was tempting, it was that kind of night where I craved the familiarity of my carefully formed solo routine, and knew I would reap the benefits that were sure to follow: physical health and a peaceful mind.

My mellow mood was only bolstered by a quick dip in the whirl pool, and then I returned home to have the house all to myself. I set out to cook dinner and call up three friends with whom I shared good news -- the combined effect of all this was feeling complete satisfaction with my decisions, and so much hope for future similar evenings to come.