Last Sunday I ran about 4 1/2 miles. Out in the middle of nowhere, but that’s a different subject. As we were running, my running partner, Carl, said something like the way I was running couldn’t possibly be good for my hips. I have been going to physical therapy because my left hip is about a half inch higher than my right hip. Also a different subject. Anyway, he said I looked like I was sort of lumbering along. He was right. I wasn’t picking my feet up, my legs were too straight. I wasn’t really running. Here’s a thought: I probably haven’t really been running at all. Ever. Well, at least not since I was a little girl.

In all the pictures that are taken of me during races, I always look a little goofy. I know, everyone looks goofy when they’re running, but I look just plain psychotic. It’s because I really haven’t been running. So, last Sunday, near the end of the run, I said, “OK, let’s just run. Fast.” So we did. Of course, we didn’t run far and fast, because I thought I would die after about 10 seconds. But Carl said “YES! That’s IT!” He actually said he had considered the thought that I really didn’t know how to run. Of course I know how to run. I just haven’t been doing it. I don’t know why. But I think I’ve turned a corner. Even though I felt like I would just collapse, I knew instantly that it was different. My form changed. Both feet were off the ground at the same time. I was running. I think I really hadn’t truly run, full on, since I was a little girl. It felt good.