The fifth installment of the 40 miles adventures...
So October was a long time ago. I know. I know. That is how I roll right now. But less rolling and more barely keeping up with anything at all. Some people are amazing at time management. I am not one of those people.
However... I am sort of a new kind of person that I never thought I could be again...
I am (very loosely put) a runner. Or slow jogger. Semantics.
October was the month when I finally was brave enough to open the Couch to 5k app that has been on my phone for months and months. October was the month when I changed from "I'll run until that tree way down the path, okay, I actually meant this closer tree instead..." to running when the dude in my headphones told me to run. Until he tells me to stop.
Best part? I haven't died yet.
Does it help that I run right below my Junior High? Where I broke a six minute mile? No. It does not. I was a crazy fast thirteen year old. I am now a crazy slow way more than thirteen year old. The only thing thirteen about me now is the pace I am happy running a mile.
Thankfully, early in the morning, nobody fast runs on the trail. Actually, hardly anyone is on the trail. Just some leisure walkers and their dogs. Who like to say hi. I however do not like to say hi. I do not want to move my head, smile, or waste a single bit of oxygen being friendly. I am using every single ounce of it trying not to drop dead. Nor do I want to move for the beagle lady who ALWAYS walks on the wrong side of the sidewalk. Always. This is not England. It is America. The beagle lady gets no hello from me. Having to swerve around her takes precious energy that I need for that whole not dying thing. Other side lady. OTHER SIDE.
So that is me. The angry, unfriendly, almost dying, staring straight forward, just get this stupid thing over with, listening to not-safe-for-children music way too loud in my ear buds, why do people like it, I feel like they are total liars, because I will never ever ever like it, runner.
Recently a friend told me that power walking burns the same if not more calories than running.
Maybe it does. Lets be honest though.... running is way more BA.
Take that power walkers.
In case you are like me and are curious how this whole deal goes down, here is typical morning in this reluctant runner-ish girl...
Alarm. 5:46. Because 5:45 seems way more awful for this night owl.
Outfit ready on the floor next to my bed.
Coffee. Luna honey pretzel bar. I stab people if I don't have coffee immediately, I barf if I don't eat immediately.
Water. I used to carry it, but that is annoying. Then I would bring it, but stash it in the bushes. One too many episodes of Law & Order has made me convinced that a bad guy could drug it while I wasn't watching. Now I embrace temporary dehydration.
Start the Mapmyrun app.
Out the door.
Before daylight savings it was dark when I left. Spooky and murdery dark. Now that the sun is peeking out, the fearing for my life has diminished.
Fast walk for a mile listening to a sermon or this album. I have to balance out the parental advisory playlist that is coming up.
Start C25K. Hate every single second of it. HATE.
Finish, cool down and walk back home, listening to Mumford.
While I am gone, Jason gets the girls up, dressed and fed. I swoop in just in time to do all of their hair. Then he takes them to school. I love him. Mornings are rough. He makes them way less rough.
Repeat three times a week.
The other two days I have the little two in the stroller, and try to meet a friend for a normal, human being hour of the day, enjoyable, less wanting to die, walk.
Will I ever enter a real race? NO. NEVER. Pay money to be tortured, and deal with my crowd anxiety issues? Nothankyouverymuch. "Oh, but The Color Run looks so fun and raninbow-y." NO. Yes rainbow-y. NOT FUN. Will I ever like this nonsense? No. Never. I am okay with that. I do feel better. I feel a bit less old and creaky than I did when I started. Advil is my friend. It will always be my friend. Will it ever be fun to wake up before the sun? No. Would I love to stay cozy under my covers for another hour? Hello. That is a dumb question.
Each time the alarm goes off, this very simple phrase haunts me, and makes me get out of bed.
(So true. Unless you get murdered.
Or trip on a beagle.)
Or trip on a beagle.)
Next week I will tell you how one run with my husband made me want to quit forever. Plus if I made it to the 50 mile goal for November. Yep. Dramatic.