The Consequence Was...

The consequence was... (a continuation of Withdrawal - My roofs were adrift, the sap in my veins all gone.)

She stepped out of the house. Put one foot in front of the other. And started to run.
She felt silly at first. Self conscious. She could feel every awkward movement of her legs, her hips, her shoulders.
What should she do with her arms? She'd never had to think about that before. Everything else she did in life her arms seemed to follow, seemed to find their own role, their own home. But not with this strange thing. Not with running.
They hung down at first, flapped a bit like a penguin feigning flight, and bashed into her side as they inevitably crashed down again.
All very unfeminine she thought.
But her feet kept going. And within a few minutes, within a few yards, her body found some sort of rhythm. Not exactly Jessica Ennis-Hill. But at least a little less Pinga the penguin!
Her breathing was heavy. She made a mental note to herself. Bring the iPod the next day. At least some music, or storytape, would take her mind off the wheezing.
She was just about to stop. Just about to give in to the stitch and the short breaths, when she saw the milkman rounding the corner.
Her pace picked up. She tried deeper breaths. She forgot the pain in her side for a moment.
"Keep going, you are doing great," said the milkman, getting out of his van to make his latest delivery.
That's when she first discovered the "encouragement effect". Her legs pumped faster, her breaths became deeper, she even started to smile.
She slowed as she climbed the first incline. But she kept on going. She never thought she would.
And as she got to the top of the hill, came the reward which brought an even bigger smile sweeping across her face.
Her first downhill. The Ski Sunday theme tune suddenly came into her brain. Cue almost a laugh. Maybe she'd take a rain check on the iPod, this uncovering long-forgotten things from your brain was fun. Like some random shuffle button attached to your memory.
She let her legs go. Long strides. And took the opportunity to take deep breaths. And really let her arms pump. Swinging them now like some marching soldier on parade, only at a run, rather than a quick-march. She stopped that. She thought she was in danger of getting all penguin-like again. Getting carried away.
Before she knew it, she was at the mile-and-a-half stage. Past the newsagent, the post office, the garage and the primary school, and having enjoyed the downhill dip to the halfway mark.
What happened next was a further lesson in psychology. She never thought she'd learn so much on a short run!
No sooner had she turned at half way, back into the wind as it turned out, than she could hear the words in her head.
"You've got this. You've run 1.5miles already. So you know you can run 1.5miles back."
She wasn't quite sure the logic worked. But it felt so good, who was she to question it?
And despite battling against the breeze, her legs stretched further, her strides lengthened, she straightened her body, and actually found herself thinking the unthinkable. It was the 'e' word. And it was that brain again. This time telling her: "I'm enjoying this."
She quickly dismissed it. Somehow it felt like she was cheating on herself. She'd told herself all her life, and anyone who would listen, that she hated running. Surely she hadn't lived a lie all these years.
She put it to the back of her mind, and concentrated on the road ahead, the task in hand, to finish the run
A short, steep, hill stopped her thinking for a few moments. She needed all her energy for the climb.
God, she hoped she didn't see the neighbours now, all puffing and panting, wheezing and groaning. Red faced, bent body, legs and hips zig-zagging from side to side just to ensure she made it to the top.
Her brain kicked in just when she needed it most, urging her to "keep going" she was "nearly there".
And when she got to the crest of the hill, and felt her limbs going downhill again, she felt like she was entering the Olympic stadium on the final circuit of the stadium to achieve her own personal gold.
"Yes," she shouted out loud. Then quickly looked all around to check no-one heard. They hadn't.
Nothing stood in the way of her success now. She rounded the final bend, into her drive, and touched the front door in celebration.
The shower. The tingling. The sense of achievement was just the icing on the cake.
The consequence was...by the next morning, she wanted to do it all over again. And again
Soon, she was talking to the milkman, to the paper delivery girl, to the dog walkers and other joggers.
She felt she was achieving at something.
Felt she was successful at something in her life.
Felt she had something of which to be proud.
Who cares if it was only a daily three-mile run.
To her it meant everything.
It meant she'd turned her back on years of fear and isolation.
It meant, finally, she was ready to face the world again...