Not running on empty

“I don’t run,” I told my boyfriend on our first date. “Never have,

never will.”

To put it in context, my paramour-to-be had just told me he likes

to pound his feet on the pavement in a serious way. A 26.2-mile way.

“Don’t worry, I won’t try and convert you,” he said.

So why is it six months later I find myself with not one, but two

pairs of running shoes on my shoe rack in women’s size 8 1/2? Why is

it I actually wear these shoes at a freakily early hour in the

morning, walking and then jogging around my neighborhood?

It’s not his fault. Really. I want to blame him, but I just can’t.

After all, I didn’t even tell him I had taken it up until a month

after I started. Didn’t want to get his hopes up that I might

actually like participating in this thing he’s so crazy about until I

was sure I did.

It’s my curiosity that hooked me after watching him run race after

race. I just had to know why it was that anyone would lace canvas,

foam and rubber to their feet and just go for a mile or two or 26.

Of course, learning that neither bicycling nor swimming -- my two

favorite activities -- do anything to help you gain bone mass pushed

me to lace up a pair of shoes. My mother has severe osteoporosis,

brittle bones, and I’m working to make sure the same cannot be said

of me as I grow older. Impact sports, like running, help make

stronger bones if carefully done.

What I’ve learned is that you can’t just run. You have to work up

to it, just like any sport. I wandered the World Wide Web until I

found a running site that gave a good training regimen for a

beginning runner.

At the moment, I walk 15 minutes, alternate running and walking

for 10 minutes and then walk for five more minutes. On a good day, I

go a mile and a half at this pace. I have a cheap pedometer that

tells me how far I’ve gone based on stride length.

The first time I tried it, my legs felt like rubber walking the

stairs to my apartment. Didn’t help that in that first month, I

didn’t have running shoes. Being fiscally conservative, I didn’t want

to spend the money for good shoes before I knew I wasn’t going to

just drop the whole idea.

So, I ran in my red tennies. They look great and feel awful. But

they didn’t ruin the experience for me.

There’s something about being out and about in your neighborhood

in the quiet hours of the morning that’s almost magical. You meet the

neighbors with dogs that have to be walked. You say hello to the man

going to work early in Los Angeles. You connect.

I spend so much of my time inside, cooped up by four walls,

breathing recycled air that I forget what it’s like to be outdoors.

To watch the sun get ever higher in the sky. To watch the leaves

change color. Running has given that back to me, like a slice of

childhood returned.

And now that I’ve found it, I’m hesitant to give it up. Last

Saturday, I was on a path at the bluffs in Long Beach when I passed

some bicyclers, who asked me why I was running. I said because I like

it. And I do.

Twelve minutes later, I was bit by a leashed dog that probably

smelled my cats as I went past. No worries, the bite is minuscule and

the doctor says my chance of having rabies is pretty low. You would

think this would keep me from lacing up the shoes for a while. But

no, this weekend, I’ll be out there running. And avoiding the dogs.

* JENNIFER K MAHAL is features editor of the Daily Pilot. She can

be reached at (949) 574-4282 or jennifer.mahal@latimes.com.