I stood in my driveway and pressed START on my phone. It was my first time using a training app for beginning runners. “Walk for 90 seconds,” an encouraging female voice sang out. I started down the sidewalk.
It was mid-January, a bit warmer than usual. I’d pulled on a pair of loose stretchy pants, a baggy sweatshirt and tennis shoes. Please don’t let the neighbors see me, I thought.
At 47 years old, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done anything physically active. I’d been overweight my whole life, and sports just weren’t my thing. I was happy to cheer on the rest of my family—my husband, who played rec league hockey, and our three always-on-the-go kids. But I wasn’t out here for myself. It was my mother I worried about. I’d do anything for her—even take up running.
Mom had suffered a severe stroke seven weeks earlier. She’d been released from the hospital to a rehabilitation center for intensive therapy. I visited almost every day. She’d made strides in verbal and cognitive areas, but she struggled with physical therapy. It was hard to see my independent mom wheelchair-bound and unable to stand. It was even harder to see the defeated look in her eyes. “You’ve got this,” I’d cheer her on while she did her PT exercises. “Keep trying.” But progress was slow and she wasn’t happy at the rehab center, pleading, “I want to go home.” Well, who wouldn’t?
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