The rules were simple.

Got home after work, suited up, and took Winston for his .58 mile. He finished it in a blazing... 18 minutes. And that was with me walking backwards in front of him cheering him on for parts. He blazed across the grass to the steps, though; he had a little left in him. This winter his lethargy has spiraled into a compounding problem of inactivity -> weight gain -> inactivity -> increased arthritis pain -> inactivity... So he's in training. His .58 once a day for 1-2 weeks, then twice a day, and maybe we'll extend it if he gains speed. While he's in training the Rimadyl has been doubled. I'm using MapMyWalk to help us.

After getting him inside, I committed to the the C25K program. The rules were simple:

1. You can stop IF you fall and break something. 
• Nails don't count. 
• Neither do glasses, iPods or other non-organic body parts. 
• Teeth count IF you are bleeding and can't get it to stop. 
2. See Rule #1. 

A message has been coming to me from various angles. Stop settling for good enough. Actually dig deep, and GO DEEP. Into people; into art; into skills... into myself. 

A few weeks ago I lamented my state of Jill of Many Things, Master of None to my Zen Master Scot while in the hot tub one morning. (So much counseling goes on in those waters.) I realized that, for most of my life, I have sought to maximize my indulgent pleasure, and minimize my commitment and responsibility, by spreading myself as thin as possible. I shied away from going deep in a few things, choosing to play in the shallow mudpuddles of many. This is true for professional paths, hobbies, friends and lovers, you name it. (The one exception, which apparently proves the rule, is my dear partner of nearly 22 years.) And to be truthful, it served me well. Until now. I find myself wanting more. But of what I can't discern. Just... more. And more of the spreading thin isn't doing it. 

A component of the spreading too thin is also not really pushing. Not really giving it my all. Exercise was certainly an example. I often quit when it got uncomfortable. Yoga, somehow, called me to go further. And one day, I found out what happens if I just grin and bear it through those moments when a voice in my head had a tantrum and wants to stop. 

There's something pretty amazing on the other side.

Ignoring the screaming in my head to stop (because hey, I'd already done more than I'd ever done before, right? That was good enough, right? Throw in the towel and go do something easier...), I carried on. At first it was hard. But then... it was easier. I foolishly took this a little too far so in the 6th interval I was flat out RUNNING. Not jogging, but in-danger-of-hyperextending-a-knee, beating-the-shit-out-of-my-heels running. 

Yeah, I regretted that. 

But I finished, and by the end of the 5 minute cooldown I was doing well, still flushed but back to easy breathing. 

I'll be writing more, because I've scheduled 20 minutes a day for myself to write. 20 minutes. No bluffing. And the count is down to 00:09 so this one is done. Writing without a net.