I hate my friend Erin with four kids.
OK. Not really. I love her. But last night while I was running in the half-dark round and round a mile-long path, and it was humid, and hot in a way that is RIDICULOUS for October, I was not thinking of how I love her.
I was thinking about how two weeks ago she casually asked, "You wanna run the Turkey Trot with me?" And how -- though my brain screamed, "SAY NO! For the love of Kraft cheese, say NO!" -- I shrugged as if it were a minor matter not involving pain and phlegm and said, "OK."
Obviously, I was in denial of the last few times I've decided to start running again. (And by "again" I mean since graduating from high school sixteen years ago.) You see, I used to be an athlete. Really. Four quarters up and down the basketball court? No problem. Four quarters up and down the soccer field? No problem. I got tired, but my body went as long as I told it to.
Then, at 24, living in Austin, I decided to join an adult women's soccer league. I was once an awesome soccer player (never mind that it had been a decade since playing competitively).
I couldn't keep up. I had to ASK someone to substitute in for me. Small children and bunnies mocked me. I had a splitting headache the rest of the day following games. It was humiliating. My body wouldn't behave the way my brain told it to, and I detested that so much I did what any proud, self-respecting former athlete would do: I quit.
Damn you, bunnies!
Since then I've briefly re-entered the cardio-workout world on a few occasions. But, to my total shock, my body STILL would not behave the way my brain told it to. I got exhausted quickly. And I hurt. And I felt like crap afterward.
Isn't there supposed to be a rush of hormones that makes me feel wonderful? Aren't I supposed to be energized? "Natural high," anyone?
Well, let's just say after a good margarita and Mexican food with friends, I feel pretty darn good. After a run, I feel like the fourth day of a flu. This is clearly a no brainer.
Then Erin said, "Wanna run the Turkey Trot with me?" And I said yes. And I've been dying ever since then, because I CAN'T just quit now. I can curse the day we met. I can curse the fact that two children, no exercise and an unholy love of cheese does not make for physical superiority. I can just curse.
But. I. can't. quit.
So there I was last night, running/walking/running/walking ... I've worked up to longer runs between the walking. Eventually (she tells herself) I'll be just running. Although at this point, it's hard to imagine that happening. The good thing is, in the short time I've been running, I no longer feel like Toni McKillMeNow for three hours after the run (like the first day), and I'm no longer sore over most of my body (like the first week). So that's progress.
When I no longer check my watch every minute to see how much time I have left to suffer and when I no longer breathe to the beat of "I-hate-this," then I'll REALLY be making progress.
Thing is, I don't REALLY hate it. I mean, I don't love it. I don't even like the running itself. But I do like the sense of accomplishment afterward. I'm not too old or too lazy or too out-of-shape to push myself. That's a good thing. It may not be non-stop up and down a field, but it's something.
And that's more than I could say a month ago.
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10 comments:
I usually find that nothing gives me that rush of endorphins like running towards a plate of brownies. It's all about having a goal.
I'm sorry, all these posts of running "k's" is just CRAZY TALK to me!!! : )
The last "k" I "ran" in was for a charity and I knew I should hang up my Nike's when people with STROLLERS were passing me by.
Good luck with your Turkey Trot. I'll be skipping the "trot" part on Thanksgiving and going for the "turkey" part (and the pie part!)
I'm not a natural runner, but I did the CoolRunning.com program and used to feel great after each accomplishment. I really need to get back "on program."
I seriously don't know who I'm laughing at the hardest. You, Big Mama or Phyllis. Last time I tried to run was on the beach in Ipswich, and I'm telling you, it was a real shocker. So I guess I admire you for doing this but geez I so would understand if this was another time you quit.
The problem with running, at my age, is first you have to be bound up like a mummy. Way too many things jiggle.
Toni, I laughed out loud at your comment on my post! I guess we are in the same "I'd better beat this body into submission because after giving birth multiple times it's not going to do it by itself" mode, huh? (As if that were really a mode.)
I used coolrunning.com too, like Nancy, the first time I started running, after having Caiden. I started with running for 1 minute, then walking 1 minute, for a total of 20 minutes. Three months later, I could run 6 miles pretty easily. That's nothing short of a miracle for me.
Keep at it, if for nothing other than you can eat that cheese guilt-free:)
Toni, I was going to tell you that you sounded just like Sarah. But she already did. When I talk to her later in the day, after she's been out running, and I ask, did you enjoy it? She says, no. I enjoyed it being done. Sounds like thats where you are. I'd take it up if ever, just once, I'd see somebody running along the road with a smile on their face. Hasnt happened yet. Maybe I need to see them after the run?
Nothing makes you feel more out of shape than to be passed on the upside of a mountain trail by an elderly jogger. Seriously. I wanted to catch up to him, but only so I could push him off. Is that wrong?
Bev already said it, but I have yet to see a runner who looks like they're enjoying it. However, I do think you can do it. I will be sixty next month, and my husband and I just started seriously riding bikes again. I thought my poor little legs would just fall off and dry up somewhere, but I can actually make it up the hills now. I don't know if I love it, but I do like the feeling of having done it.
There is just nothing worse than listening to people who will clearly NEVER, EVER be overweight complain about being out of shape. Who cares if you get winded walking a forty yard dash, YOUR THIN. That's the important thing. Quality of life--overrated!
When you signed up for soccer in Austin, you should have played goalie. They don't have to run. And I remember you being an incredibly intimidating goalie when you were eight. I think it was because you yelled really loud.
Running to the rhythm of "I hate this". That's downright inspiration. No joke. I thought I was obviously not normal doing that. Now I know to just push on through it!
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