Couch to 5K: Week two, Day three
Before Run:
I have to go out and do my run. I'm
finding it very, very hard to get my butt motivated today. I know I will be
fine once I'm out there. But I just don't wanna. This is a sort of faux
exhaustion I get with my time of the month.
I know I have to push through it or I will only feel
worse if I don't go out. I remind myself that I have lost 24.6 pounds since
February and the running pushed me off the plateau I had reached. I remind
myself I want to keep building muscle and endurance. I remind myself that I am
going to the Bristol Renn faire today and will selectively indulge in treats so
I need the running.
I remind myself how much harder it will be to go out
tomorrow morning if I skip today. I remind myself I am not truly sick and I
will feel better when I'm done with the run (this is from personal experience,
I promise I'm not pushing myself too hard). Okay. I'm gonna go get ready now.
Grumble, grumble, grumble.
Post Run:
Before I start let me just say….Yes!! I am awesome! Okay,
let’s return to the grumpiness of before the run, to set the mood.
I didn’t want music today. I didn’t want to fuss with cords
and today the idea of music annoyed me for some reason. I started out an hour
later than usual and the sun was already up. Fuck you, sun! Stop shining! You’re
hurting my eyes!
Inner Bitch, sensing hesitation and weakness and knowing
that time of the month (the week of my menstrual flow) is HER time, put in a
protest after being a no-show for Thursday’s run. “I don’t wanna do this! Let’s
go home!” I ignore her.
I do my five minute walk and stop to stretch. My current
route is mostly straight up and back a road named Garfield, an infrequently
used road at the back of the half-built subdivision in the neighborhood. The
subdivision development stopped when the economy died, so there’s a number of open
lots on this road and across the street is a field with mounds of dirt grown
over with grass. There’s an unpaved track cutting through the field where I’ve
stopped to stretch.
“Hey,” says Inner Bitch. ”Where does that go? Where does it
go, let’s see!”
Well, I guess she’s good for something. “Another day,” I
tell her. “Another day, settle down and another day we’ll follow it.”
Run(shuffle)/walk, run(shuffle)/walk, run(shuffle)/walk…to
the end of Garfield. The road tees into Hwy 23, where if you turn left you’ll
be heading north to the nearest large town. A vista stretches out, cornfields
and countryside as far as the eye can see. The sun is shining off the mist
still overlying the cornfields. I feel like goddamn Rocky at the top of the steps
of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I enjoy this feeling for several seconds and now we turn around.
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| Like this, but without getting my ass handed to me by Apollo Creed later. |
Run(shuffle)/walk all they way back down Garfield until I reach the
required twenty minutes. I always do a run segment at the end of the time, even
if I’m done with the twenty minutes, just because I like ending with the
running bit.
So I start the last run segment and you know what? I think I
feel pretty good. The 90 seconds passes and body check? Yep, still feel pretty
good, let’s see if we can reach that sign…pass the sign…still feeling good? You
can stop anytime you need. Let’s see if we can reach the corner. Pass the
corner. Still okay? You sure? No pain? I think I could do this for awhile. Want
to try to reach the driveway? You can stop anytime you need, you did the twenty
minutes. No pain? Okay…let’s see if we can reach the driveway…
Five minutes and twelve seconds of sustained shuffling! Five
minutes and twelve seconds! I am a goddamn warrior!
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| I am the eye of the tiger! Fear me! |
