I wasn’t this nervous during the birth of my first child or when I gave my first presentation in sophomore speech class.

The day I started my running program was not a day for public consumption.

I downloaded an app on my iPhone ( C25K Free) which promised to get me from a couch potato to a 5K run in 8 weeks. I selected my running playlist. I signed up for Strava, a GPS service that could track my runs by distance, trail, and time.

In short, I stalled.

But the day came. I had already decided on a secluded trail where nothing but hawks and crop dusters could watch me run.

Yeah, there was a crop duster that day. A small yellow airplane made at least three passes over me while I staggered through the training.

Fortunately, I had thought to wear a baseball cap and I just kept it tugged low.

Nobody could see my face.

The training app featured a sweet voice calmly cuing me: “Start walking now.”

I was good on the walking part. I strode out confidently for five minutes and then my sweet trainer said, “Start running now.”

I knew I only had to run for one minute on this day and so I stepped right out.

When waiting out a labor contraction or that last minute before the Friday bell releases you for the weekend, sixty seconds is an eternity.

And it’s even longer than that when you’re running and you’re out of shape.

I have never been so glad to hear my trainer speak again: “Start walking.”

I thanked her. Out loud. The hawk didn’t care.

App or no app, those were welcome words.

Ninety seconds go by fast when you’re trying to catch your breath and the trainer, with that voice that now sounded more like she didn’t care much, said, “Start running now.”

I survived. But then, just for the record, I survived labor and the sophomore speech, too. Amazing.