Actually, it wasn't a crawl at all.
This morning I woke up, remembered that working out is a habit again, and then linked up with my morning walk crew. I got on the phone (featuring my lovely boycat Yang on the lock screen) with my girlfriend Squee, and my bestie Moliére.
We shared our routine. We listened to Squee get the Squeelets off to school, listened to Moliére go through and finish his workout and return to his meow-purring room-mate Figaro, and listened to me as I pushed myself to go a little further, and a little faster.
On the way home I remarked to them both that I was taking the Really Big Hill™ by my house a lot easier today than I did yesterday, and that I really was powering up it, without sounding like a wheezing camel in a cuisinart, or whatever.
So, after I crested the hill, and was in the last half mile or so back to the house, I actually broke out in a run for a bit. At one point I was doing a 9:30 mile. Now, it's not like I did it for 9 minutes, I did it for about 2 minutes. But, I wanted to do it, and I did it.
Back when I was first learning to run, I felt this way. I remember it. Brother told me what it was even. It's when you start to progress and want to burst through to the next level. Tomorrow, I'm going swimming, and while I'm excited to cross-train, I'm just the tiniest bit disappointed. Because I'm excited to go out again, and see how much more I want to and do actually run.
I feel myself actively "on the grow" again.
I love having Squee and Moliére to share it with. It's connecting, supporting, and enhancing. I love them and the way they help me.