This past week has been the first real step in reclaiming the part of myself that running awakens—the part that feels grounded, capable, and fully present. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t smooth. But it was honest, and it was mine. I’ve been getting short drills and runs in using the Garmin app but made a big pivot this week.
What I learned this week is that coming back to running is less about speed or distance and more about waking up the parts of yourself you forgot were alive. Every run this week reminded me why I started: the peace, the challenge, the discipline, the way it sharpens me mentally when life feels chaotic. And somewhere in these miles, something in me clicked—I’m back at it. Maybe not fully, not yet. But the spark is there.
Saturday— A Quiet Morning Start
Driving to the kids swim meet this morning, but it felt like the beginning of something. As I moved, I felt grateful—grateful for the morning, for where I live, for the beauty of the earth around me. Grateful for my friends, my family, and for a practice that’s growing every week and month. A year ago, none of this was guaranteed. Now it feels like momentum.
I watched a few solo runners out on the road older and young alike, and something in that lit something in me—not in a sappy, Michigan-nostalgia kind of way, but in a grounded reminder that I have no excuses. Seeing people out there reminded me of everything I had been missing, and now that I’m back, it only reinforces how much I want to be out there. How much I want to earn this back.
I also started thinking about my long-term goal. In March, I’m planning to run the Rock CF Rivers Half Marathon—the race that started all of this for me years ago. I’ll touch base with RockCF soon about ways to support their cause from here in Texas, but at its core, returning to that race feels like returning to my starting line.
Tuesday — Run/Walk and the “Here You Are” Moment
Running Journal — First Run After NEW Garmin Benchmark run 11/11/25
Tonight was my first official run after completing my Garmin running evaluation — the start of a new training plan leading up to my half marathon goal in March. The workout began with a ten-minute warm-up of walking and light jogging, and toward the end of that warm-up I found myself easing into a rhythm and picking up the pace slightly. From there, the main portion of the run alternated thirty seconds of running with thirty seconds of walking to recover. At the end of the session, the plan called for a series of quick thirty-second bursts — running, slowing down, running again — before finishing with a ten-minute walk or light jog to cool down. Altogether I covered about 1.65 miles.
The conditions were decent tonight. Some parts of the route were slightly uphill (for someone out of shape, fairly flat in general), which made those intervals more challenging at the end, but the air had a light breeze and was warmer than the night before. My breathing felt smoother, though my asthma still made me work for it — a reminder that I’m still rebuilding my conditioning. The best part was that my feet felt great and my back and feet and knees didn’t hurt at all. I ran with my headlamp and flashlight so I could see the road and not roll an ankle and also alert drivers if necessary.
Before heading out, I had some Honey Stinger Energy Chews and a sugar-free Gatorade or Powerade for a little fuel. When I got back home, I stretched thoroughly, ate, and then settled in to rest. It felt good to get the run done and stick to the plan. My heart rate baseline has already dropped by about ten beats per minute over the last couple of weeks, which is encouraging progress. I haven’t been back to running long, but I’m staying consistent and can already feel small improvements.
Next up is another interval run on Thursday with a similar setup, followed by a two-mile run/walk on Saturday without intervals. I’m looking forward to that one and to seeing how my body continues to adapt with each session.
Thursday — A Quiet Spark and a Clearer Goal
Thursday’s run was simple on paper: a warm-up walk, the same 30-second drills, and a cool-down. Physically, it felt similar to Tuesday. But mentally, something shifted. The new goal—months down the road, aiming for the Rock CF Rivers Half—was on my mind the entire time.
I realized the spark didn’t actually start today. It started last week on that one-mile run last Saturday, the one where I felt so good afterward that I jogged part of the cool-down just because I could. I remember how excited I felt in that moment—that feeling of I’m finally doing it, and that I had stayed consistent long enough to feel something waking up again. This was something I was unable to do while I was so busy and stressed working in Michigan those last 5 years before the Texas move. It’s the reason I ran the Rock CF Half Marathon in 2022 for the medal even though I hadn’t trained hardly for it, and I paid for it physically. I’ll make a separate post about that another time.
Somewhere in that cool-down last Saturday, something shifted. I felt like the scene from Hook where the kid squishes Robin Williams’ face, looks at him, and says, “Oh, there you are, Peter.” That was me. That feeling of there I am. The version of me that loves running—that feels the cape of joy and identity come back over my shoulders—showed up again, something I’ve been missing for years.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was real. And it meant something.
And the truth is, I have no excuses not to be out here. I see people running every day who have every reason to slow down, and yet they don’t. There’s an older gentleman in my subdivision I’ve seen nearly every morning since we moved here. He’s focused, deliberate, honestly looks like he might be in pain, but he just keeps going—day in, day out, almost without fail. Watching someone like that removes any excuse I could try to manufacture. If he can show up, I can show up.
Today wasn’t a breakthrough in pace or distance, but it was a breakthrough in intention. I can feel myself committing to the bigger goal—and starting to believe in it.
Saturday Evening — Two Miles in the Dark
Last night was the toughest run of the week and the most meaningful.
I headed out after sunset with a headlamp and a handheld light so cars could see me. My warm-up was another full 10-minute walk/jog, and then I started my two-mile run—the longest outing I’ve done since restarting.
Mile 1:
Run-walk. Tough breathing. Calves burning. The mental game was the hardest part. That mile felt like forever. My mental toughness isn’t where I want it to be yet, but running forces you to confront that head-on. You have to keep pushing when your mind starts negotiating with you and your body wants to stop for comfort.
Mile 2:
I tried to shorten my walk breaks to push myself—not recklessly, but intentionally. The first half felt manageable. The last half was a grind. My legs were feeling the jump from one mile to two, but the self-talk showed up:
Get to that next streetlight. Make it to that mailbox. Just get to the next marker.
That’s how I finished the second mile.
The cool-down was mainly a walk. My legs were smoked, but I felt accomplished. It wasn’t the worst run I’ve ever done, and honestly, it felt better than I expected. But it was a challenge—physically and mentally—and I needed that.
What This Week Means
Seven days in to a new goal, several weeks of small steps and runs, and something feels different. Not perfect. Not easy. But different.
I’m fully aware of how far I have to go, but I also see where I’m heading. And that direction matters more than speed. I want to set a goal that scares me just enough to pull me forward—something bigger than a 5K or a 10K. Something with weight. Something that gives purpose to these slow, dark, tired evening runs where I’m forcing myself to rebuild brick by brick.
That goal, for me, is the Rock CF Rivers Half Marathon. Not tomorrow. Not next month. But months from now—when I’m ready, healthy, and far stronger than I am today.
This week reminded me of why I’m doing this. I’m not chasing a time or a PR. I’m chasing the version of me I feel when I run. The grounded one. The one who feels capable. The one who’s coming back to life again, mile by mile.
And right now, it feels good to say it:
I’m back at it.
