Every morning I walk laps up and down my driveway. Libby, my almost-13-year-old Lab limping along beside me.
She wants to be at point, in the lead at all times but her legs say otherwise, folding up on her or dragging at their convenience. She has hip dysplasia and about two or three laps in she’ll simply stop and wait patiently for me to finish.
Yesterday, with Libby watching, my legs carried me up the hill at a run.
I haven’t run for weeks, months. But when I reached the bottom of the hill and was ready to go back up, I felt like my legs had a mind of their own and I took it at a sprint.
In years past, Libby would have sprinted ahead of me and when I think about how she can’t do that anymore I cry.
Later in the day I wondered why I’d run.
I remembered an article in Whole Living about running. The article was all about technique and strategy to get more out of your walk, but those things didn’t stick with me. What stuck was a quote by Danny Dreyer:
“My rule is this: run until you start feeling a little fatigued. Walk until you start feeling guilty.”
My body and my mind craved something just a bit more from me, together they were embarrassed by my continued walk.
Instead of resisting and waiting until I was ready, I went along.