Codebreaking

My broken hallelujah, while a breakthrough, was not helping me get out of bed this morning.

 

And apparently lots of tears.

Today was the day of reckoning.  The parents were home, my chaotic twelve-fourteen hour days of single parenting ending, and I could start exercising again.

But I didn't want to.

My bed sucked me in, and an unexpected breakfast in bed held me there tight.

 Harbaugh was most interested.

Too many tears shed over too many things (I suspect the concussion of last week was a definite culprit) and exercise, my arch nemesis was calling.

I hate exercise.

To top it off, my weary soul called for comfort, and I had skipped church due to my beloved Durango being unsafe to drive while awaiting repairs.

While listening to Hallelujah I decided to take an easy hike, knowing it is in nature I commune best with God.  I could listen to my Jesus music and pray on the trail, hopefully easing both body and spirit.

That's sooooooo not what happened.

 Williamson Valley trailhead.

The trail is a triangle, not quite 4 miles in length.  The first side is a mile and a quarter, and is relatively flat.

 Until right about here, at the junction of 347.

About 3/4's down the first section of trail, I decided to give trail running a shot.  No fewer than three friends had recommended it to me, touting the necessity of constant thinking it required.  Never to back down from an intellectual challenge, and knowing a fresh start was a great time to start something new, I have it a try.

The air monster was there immediately.

For a change, I sat down and collected myself, fully aware that this was an asthma attack (I vlogged it as well.)  Once I had regained the ability to breathe, I determined I wouldn't let it get too bad the next time I ran, and would stop and drink water at the first since of air restriction.

 Did I mention I was wearing minimus shoes?

The middle section of the trail is rocky mile, and I took to it with alacrity.  I quickly learned trail running was a very short gait to control foot placement, with hands lower at the side.  It wasn't a jog but it was far from a run...more a hopping hike!  I wondered if it was a heel strike or a toe strike...

 ...and quickly learned a hand/knee combo strike!  My first fall was on a remarkably flat piece, thankfully with few rocks.  My hand wasn't skinned (or broken!!) but my knee was bloody.

I was elated.

 As I was having a blast.

The last mile was relatively flat, and I ran 7/8ths of it.  As I neared the trailhead, I was euphoric.

While exercising.

I felt amazing.

 

My golden trail.

While my hips knew they'd had a workout, and my skinned up knee burned, my lungs had decided quite suddenly to work as normal.  Over the 3.7 miles I had ran at least a mile of it, and I felt incredible.

 I thought about sitting here to blog...but that's barbed wire!

As my playlist flipped back to the first song, and Hallelujah again played, it all clicked.

Hiking is my sanctuary.  I go to the Canyon as my cathedral.  Today I had purposefully sought God in nature, listening to my Jesus music.  My faith brings me pleasure, never guilt or pain.

Unwittingly, I had tapped into the pleasure receptors of my brain, and had combined them with exercise for perhaps the first time in my life.

 I could hear the Canyon calling me.

The oft spoke of, but rarely if ever experienced "exercise high" was mine, due to the first ever connection of exercise with pleasure.  This should have been a terrible, hard workout.  I, simply stated, do not run.

Ever.

But I did, and it was wonderful.

My Hallelujah may no longer be broken....now it's time to make it a habit.

But tonight, tonight I revel in the fact it didn't hurt, torture or consume me with torment (for that is what running in the past would have meant.). Tonight I felt what others have found naturally

Tonight, I found how to motivate me.