When I was three years old, I broke my leg.
In 3rd grade, I cracked a kneecap.
In 4th grade I cracked a bone in my wrist.
I've had at least three sprained ankles (maybe more).
In 1997, I broke my foot (but that didn't stop me from going to New Orleans).
Being so prone to breakage, I haven’t run anywhere of my own accord since high school gym class. By the way, running in airports, chasing freedom seeking dogs and herding rampant children does not count as “of my own accord."
As you may recall from a couple of posts back, I have joined a fitness center. You will all be happy and surprised to learn that I have successfully completed three workouts (which included moves on the dreaded step apparatus between use of circuit machines) without injury.
As impressive as that may be for a person of my limited coordination and frequent inability to remain in the upright position, the thing I am most impressed with is my performance on the treadmill. My fear of all things mechanical, in general, and exercise related mechanical, in particular, has kept me from ever attempting to use a treadmill. I have always been certain that if I ever stepped on one, I would immediately do a George Jetson off the back of the thing and crash into the nearest wall and/or person.
Tuesday night, however, I had the gym mostly to myself and I went for it. I started slow, then I got brave. I walked. I walked fast. I walked faster. I inclined that sucker and walked even faster. Then, wait for it, I ran. I ran and ran and ran. I ran like the wind! Well, it was more like a brief gust of a gentle summer breeze, but my point is I ran and it felt good.
Look out big scary looking elliptical machine. You're next.