Ryan Had a Little Lamb

Day 16: 1 mile on the treadmill.
Day 17: 4 miles.
Day 18: 4 miles with Warren.
Day 19: 1 mile.
Day 20: 4 miles on the treadmill.

Let me set the scene:

A young boy plucks away at a guitar he hasn't quite grown into.  The notes seem disembodied, some free jazz musings perhaps.  he pauses and with greater certainty and concentration picks out "Mary Had a Little Lamb."  he arrives at the end and stops, smiles.  This is the first time he's played it through without strings buzzing and wrong notes.  He calls to his older brother in the other room who walks in looking annoyed.  Little brother tries to explain the miracle he just experienced.  Older brother sighs and calmly lets little brother know to call him when he's learned the opening riff to "Purple Haze."  Older brother leaves and little brother looks defeated.  After flicking his middle finger at the spot older brother just vacated, he bends the rest of his fingers around the neck of the guitar, lowers his head and begins again.

This is how I feel sometimes when I talk to people about my running streak.  I'm so excited and every thing's happening for the first time and I just want people to feel the excitement, the newness.  Thankfully I've not run into any killjoys like the older brother in the scene above but I still feel like I'm bothering people when I talk about my new found ambitions and goals.  Compared to many of my Y members and hundreds of thousands of runners out in the world I'm still learning the simple beginner chords and melodies of running while they've been playing "Free Bird" for years.

So I guess this is an apology.  Each step and stride brings me closer to the day where I will shut up and run and I won't pat myself on the back for anything less than 6 miles.  Until then I'll try to tone it down if you'll try to remember what beginning feels like so you can share in the joy and freedom too. After all, who wants to hate on "Mary Had a Little Lamb?"