Like I said in my previous post, I was blessed with access to an outdoor rubber track on Cal Poly's campus. It is walking distance from our apartment, and rarely has more than three people on it whenever I go. Below is a picture of my husband and niece on the magic track.

Running on this track was like running on clouds compared to the pavement hills I was jogging on.  I took it easy at first, trying to run as gently as possible. (How in the world do you run gently??) Eventually, the cushy effects of the track were evident: I was HEALED, praise the Lord!


I cautiously began running on pavement again. We had reached the halfway point of the training schedule, and I was thrilled to accomplish a six-miler. Of course, after this great feat, Joe and I got extremely busy and I slacked off on the training. We went to Las Vegas with his family. I brought my gym clothes, fully intending to pound out seven miles on the treadmill in the hotel workout room. One mile in on Saturday morning, Joe calls me to come back as the family had risen early for breakfast. I was so discouraged. I had been doing so well with the track and the good habits, and in two weeks' time I had ruined it all.


The next weekend, we went home to Fresno and I was obliged to run the training schedule's allotted eight miles with my dad. Holy heart-attack Batman! During the last mile, oxygen was the only thing that kept me going. I had this surreal experience of "Okay, if I can just keep breathing, then I won't collapse. Air...I love you air."


This taught me something: Skimping on weekly runs is NOT WORTH THE AGONY come Saturday!