The thing is, looks can be deceiving. I LOOK like I’m in shape. I’ve got nice muscles, an okay body fat, and I’ve used up more of my available brain space on exercise facts, nutritional nuggets of info, and transformation techniques then, frankly, I care to admit. But here’s the thing…my cardiovascular level of endurance is totally in the toilet. It’s a fact about me that I try desperately to hide. I even lie about it, sometimes.
I claim I “used to” run miles at a time. LIE.
I claim I love to run. LIE.
Truth be known, I’m the slowest, most irritable “runner” you’ll ever come across. So it makes perfect sense, then, that I’ve registered for a marathon. Right? Right. See, I was feeling kind of blue the other week, getting close to my birthday, feeling kind of goal-less and plan-less, bummed about my shoulder keeping me from working out, ashamed that I was supposed to be starting a running program months ago w/my friend far far away (we decided to do the same “starter” program on the same days and check in with each other as to our progress), and while she’s on week 6, I’ve not really yet started. Blue. Out of sorts. Crabby. And I’ve secretly always wanted to be good at running. You know, not bad enough to actually work at it, but it’s always kind of been there hanging around in my brain, that I’d like to one day be good.
So, screw the 5K…why give myself a reasonable goal when I can completely obsess and torture myself over a looming deadline and 26.2 miles? That just wouldn’t be me. Unfortunately.
So, it’s kind of strange, this new deadline of mine. I’ve never really (in my adult life) had a “performance” goal. I mean, I’ve had improvement goals (increase my bench press), transformation goals (drop some body fat) but I’ve never had a “by this time I have to run this far” type of goal. And it’s kind of freaking me out. It’s kind of a long time for me to try and patiently, intelligently, improve my performance, week by week, mile by mile. I’m an instant gratification kind of gal. I want it done yesterday. It’s hard for me to wrap my little pea-brain around the concept of today I can run to the mailbox and in just this many baby steps I will be running farther then I commute to work each day. So, the point is, today was day one of my new training program, which at this point consists of running as far as I can without wanting to throw myself into oncoming traffic. Which is not that far, as it turns out. And I’m not yet brave enough to tell anyone that I’m “training” for fear that they might want to run with me one day, and, as anyone who has seen me run can attest, I’m less of a runner than I am an old-man-shuffler. So, do me a favor and don’t watch me run, and if you see me, don’t make eye-contact, and please don’t mention it again, because I’m feeling kind of intimidated and insecure and I don’t need you telling me I should lengthen my stride or turn my feet over faster or stop running on the outside of my foot, because I will curl up into a ball and die if I know that you saw me struggling to catch my breath and trying not to trip over the dog leash and leaving one of my lungs in the gutter on the side of the road.
Aside from the BIG AND LOOMING deadline, I’ve made two other goals. After, of course I figure out #1 how to run without looking like a complete jackass, and #2 I figure out how to swallow my feelings of intimidation. One is to, after being able to completely run 6 miles without dying, is to do a HHH run, and the other is to be in good enough shape to attend the speed clinics my local shoe store puts on over the summer, both without totally embarrassing myself.
