My feet hit the pavement marking each step in my jog. It was a slow cadence, not much faster than a power walk, but it was forward motion. I ran past three houses to reach the end of my street and already had that “alright, this is enough” feeling. I told myself to hush and kept moving, continuing my plodding pace forward. The goal was 2.5 miles, so no need to rush out of the gate. Were I to manage it without walking, it would be the longest consecutive run I’d done in years—though my slow pace would define it as a jog. Uptempo pop music played in my ears,…