I jogged on Saturday.

15 minutes was what I planned. We had company over for the weekend.

I put my shoes on in front of my father-in-law, answering questions about practical household matters as I did so.

I may not have answered his last question or comment as I headed out the door.

I started my run at 8:32. I reached the Civic Center at 8:41 and the foot of the 694 foot-bridge at 8:42. That was half-way to where I figured to turn around, as I figured it at that point.

"But this is where it just starts to get pretty!" said the devil on my shoulder.

He was right!

When I got to Palmer Lake, I took a right. I knew I was making a commitment to run all that way around it. But I said to myself, "Almost 18 minutes. Halfway there!" I had changed my mind from a 20 minute run [oh, yeah! I originally planned a 15 minute run! What happened to that? ...Um. I don't know.] to a 35 minute run. I read somewhere that 35 minutes is the magic training number.

Well, I tell you something about magic training numbers. Somewhere between 18 and 25 minutes, my breathing and stride fell into a rhythm and the next c. 40 minutes were very easy.

A jogger is never forced to say, "I have to get up this hill fast!" or "I have to be the fastest here!"

Saturday, I learned I have it in me to achieve this goal.

Now, I have to DO it.