Week 1, Runs 1 through 3
On Sunday, I took an hour-long walk. It was a beautiful day, but I didn't have it in me to run. I was coming off of a week in Hawaii, where I'd done what I consider to be a fairly respectable amount of exercising for someone on vacation (a run here, a walk there, a hike here, an exercise class there), but I was feeling jet-lagged and a little hungover from getting drunk on beaches, mountains, Thai food, and Java Chip ice cream. Walking this route felt so different from running around it, and while taking it all in at a slower pace (let's face it, not that much slower), I couldn't help but remember all the time I spent on training runs out there when training for the half-marathon. I thought about what it felt like to start that training two years ago in a fall that felt a lot like this one and wondered what it would feel like to train for something like that again. The next day, I sat down and pulled up my old training chart from the fall of 2006, changing the race date to indicate 2009's date and working backwards to see when I would have needed to start training if I should decide to entertain such a possibility, fully expecting to see that I'd missed the beginning of the training period and that it was too late to think about doing it. And I went backwards, week after week, until I ended up at day one, which was that day. That very day! I decided it was a sign.
Two years ago, some friends and I discussed training for and running the race together, but none was ultimately able to for various reasons. I put out feelers to see who might be interested this time, and Erin said, "I'm in." That was all it took for me to move my commitment from shaky to solid, and I went on my first three-mile run of the sixteen-week training period that evening. I felt heavy and slow daunted by the 62 training runs ahead of me before the race, but I told myself that's okay, that I've never been fast and probably never will be, and I am fine with that, and I know I have to take it run by run.
After falling off the fitness wagon pretty much immediately after the last half-marathon for a good 15 months and HATING myself for it, I started exercising again in June of this year, and I'm really glad I've been doing 3 miles pretty regularly, since that's the mileage at which this training program starts. I feel like it's another little sign that there's no reason I shouldn't do this. Is 3 miles necessarily an easy distance? Hell no, but it's doable. Is it sort of a pain to build an entire week's schedule around the four runs? Yes. But a worthwhile one, surely. Last time, I avoided any cross training because I was convinced I would pull a muscle or hurt myself and my entire goal would go down the toilet. I was pretty neurotic about it, even though I see now that some strength training and different kinds of cardio would have certainly helped me in the long run. This time, I hope to stick with Chalene and Jillian and work out my whole body in an effort to get stronger all around and not just be so focused on miles, miles, miles.
Last night's 3-mile run, my second of the week, was very doom and gloom. Everything hurt. My knees, my ankles, my calves, my shins. Every step was a slog. I asked myself why I had committed myself to doing something I don't enjoy four times a week for the next four months.
This morning I woke up with a renewed attitude and hit the road for my two-miler of the week. It was cool and cloudy, and my spirit was lifted by two songs in particular, "Waiting for the Light to Shine (Reprise)" and "Louder than Words," and I was reminded about one thing I do actually enjoy about running ... the opportunity to listen to music I love. These songs made my heart sing and my feet move a little faster. It was my best run of the week so far, for sure, and I remembered that this is just how it goes ... some runs are downright miserable, some are fine, and some are even sort of good. It goes up and down, just like everything else in life. Running is clearly emotional exercise as well as physical exercise. Plus, on this morning's run, I spotted two more Obama yard signs that had gone up on my street. I caught myself shouting "Yes!" and pumping my fist in the air in a moment of truly dorky, hopeful exuberance.
Mostly I just want to feel that pride in myself that I only feel when I decide to do something and actually stick with it, even if it's really hard. That's something I don't do all that often. And I want to take care of myself, and running increasing miles every week for 16 weeks is a mighty fine way to do that. Looking back, it feels a little different this time because last time there was the ever-looming question of can I do this? Can I actually run 13.1 miles without stopping to walk? (In my mind, the slowest jog in the world, what I ultimately did, was acceptable. Walking = not acceptable. That is just the mindset I was in.) I never believed that I could do it until I did, and I was obsessed with that question and that distance even though it's just an arbitrary number. Now that I know that I can, it's less about achieving that seemingly impossible feat and more about just putting in the miles and hours and weeks of getting to that place. And the bonus is that I get to share it with a friend who understands why this process is important to me because it's just as important to her.
I don't love running. It hurts, it's hard, and it's mostly hella boring. But I love knowing that I'll do it anyway. That doesn't make a lot of sense, but it makes just enough sense to feel right.
(This entry was moved over from a separate running blog.)
Two years ago, some friends and I discussed training for and running the race together, but none was ultimately able to for various reasons. I put out feelers to see who might be interested this time, and Erin said, "I'm in." That was all it took for me to move my commitment from shaky to solid, and I went on my first three-mile run of the sixteen-week training period that evening. I felt heavy and slow daunted by the 62 training runs ahead of me before the race, but I told myself that's okay, that I've never been fast and probably never will be, and I am fine with that, and I know I have to take it run by run.
After falling off the fitness wagon pretty much immediately after the last half-marathon for a good 15 months and HATING myself for it, I started exercising again in June of this year, and I'm really glad I've been doing 3 miles pretty regularly, since that's the mileage at which this training program starts. I feel like it's another little sign that there's no reason I shouldn't do this. Is 3 miles necessarily an easy distance? Hell no, but it's doable. Is it sort of a pain to build an entire week's schedule around the four runs? Yes. But a worthwhile one, surely. Last time, I avoided any cross training because I was convinced I would pull a muscle or hurt myself and my entire goal would go down the toilet. I was pretty neurotic about it, even though I see now that some strength training and different kinds of cardio would have certainly helped me in the long run. This time, I hope to stick with Chalene and Jillian and work out my whole body in an effort to get stronger all around and not just be so focused on miles, miles, miles.
Last night's 3-mile run, my second of the week, was very doom and gloom. Everything hurt. My knees, my ankles, my calves, my shins. Every step was a slog. I asked myself why I had committed myself to doing something I don't enjoy four times a week for the next four months.
This morning I woke up with a renewed attitude and hit the road for my two-miler of the week. It was cool and cloudy, and my spirit was lifted by two songs in particular, "Waiting for the Light to Shine (Reprise)" and "Louder than Words," and I was reminded about one thing I do actually enjoy about running ... the opportunity to listen to music I love. These songs made my heart sing and my feet move a little faster. It was my best run of the week so far, for sure, and I remembered that this is just how it goes ... some runs are downright miserable, some are fine, and some are even sort of good. It goes up and down, just like everything else in life. Running is clearly emotional exercise as well as physical exercise. Plus, on this morning's run, I spotted two more Obama yard signs that had gone up on my street. I caught myself shouting "Yes!" and pumping my fist in the air in a moment of truly dorky, hopeful exuberance.
Mostly I just want to feel that pride in myself that I only feel when I decide to do something and actually stick with it, even if it's really hard. That's something I don't do all that often. And I want to take care of myself, and running increasing miles every week for 16 weeks is a mighty fine way to do that. Looking back, it feels a little different this time because last time there was the ever-looming question of can I do this? Can I actually run 13.1 miles without stopping to walk? (In my mind, the slowest jog in the world, what I ultimately did, was acceptable. Walking = not acceptable. That is just the mindset I was in.) I never believed that I could do it until I did, and I was obsessed with that question and that distance even though it's just an arbitrary number. Now that I know that I can, it's less about achieving that seemingly impossible feat and more about just putting in the miles and hours and weeks of getting to that place. And the bonus is that I get to share it with a friend who understands why this process is important to me because it's just as important to her.
I don't love running. It hurts, it's hard, and it's mostly hella boring. But I love knowing that I'll do it anyway. That doesn't make a lot of sense, but it makes just enough sense to feel right.
(This entry was moved over from a separate running blog.)
posted by eliza @ 7:16 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home