When She Says 10 Minutes, She Means It

This morning the rain had stopped, the air was not muggy, the sun was shining, and I had just downloaded many happy, upbeat songs: “Now,” said the Universe, “Is the perfect time for you to go for a run.”


The Universe may say what it wishes — I must defer to Naz, the clinical trial nurse and currently the boss of me. 


Naz informed me that my bloodwork from Friday showed that my white count is low and something else is too high and basically I am not getting enough liquids. Naz decreed that I may run for no more than ten minutes or until such time as I feel tired, whichever comes first.  I must also intersperse this measly 10 minutes of running with lots of walking and I was not even permitted to leave the house before drinking about 4 glasses of water.



Talk about tough love.  I duly downed 4 glasses of water, popped in earbuds, and laced up sneakers, thinking, “Okay, 10 minutes. Fine. And then if I’m feeling good, maybe another 10 minutes…She probably meant 10 minutes at a time…”


Do you know what happens when you try to run with 4 glasses of water sloshing around in your stomach?  I bet you Naz does: you have to take frequent, lengthy walking breaks to ease the cramps.


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