saucy_dryad

I've been falling a bit behind on my C25K schedule. I just finished Week 3. I doubt I'll get another chance to run until Monday, but by that time the town should have dismantled the Big Damn Carnival it erected smack dab on my ('crazy hill' free) running route.

Week one of my C25K program is complete; tomorrow, I start on week two.

Naturally I expected that having done three walk/run training days, I'd be capable of sprinting flat out for twenty five minutes. Oh, and that I'd have dropped about fifteen pounds and have thighs the likes of which inspire sonnets. Not so much on either count. I'm going to keep on keeping on, though. There's no way out but through. Mustn't grumble. Pip pip.

What keeps me going (honestly, how silly is that? I'm one week in.) is the knowledge that if I run a minimum of three times a week, I will tone up and I will drop those extra pounds/horrifying jiggly bits. I'll also be stronger, fitter and have enhanced endurance. I will not, however, be inured to the crankiness engendered by having to run uphill for fully half of the scheduled intervals. So unfair.

There's a woman at my gym - let's call her S. - who has transformed herself over the last year. Between being mindful of what she eats, kickboxing twice a week and hitting her company gym every few days, she lost a significant amount of weight, toned up like whoa, and found her once tatchy back has grown strong and sound. With these achievements spurring her on, she decided the time had come for her to run a 5K.

Mindful of a need for balance in the universe, I selflessly ignored my own general nutrition. I exercised less, gained weight and inches and found myself increasingly less inclined to do anything as my jiggly bits expanded. Sure, there were vague motions toward reversing this trend. Without proper motivation, though, nothing stuck...

... until it did. So simple: a number and a letter. 5K.

"S. is a few years older than me," thought I. "And doughy and lame as I am, I still possess some modicum of fitness. If she can drive herself to do a 5K, so can I!"

Let's set aside the fact that I've never really run. Let's ignore my age and weight and BMI and body fat and sod-all knees*. Let's forget my post-stage combat lack of focus, my ceaseless self-doubt. Forget it all, 'cause here's the thing: I'm officially in training for a 5K.

There's a race in Florida (New York, that is... not the state) in mid-August. Both my niece and my SIL are running. Gods willing, so am I. I've got two months to get myself up to speed. I've got a knee brace, a new pair of shoes and some seriously badass insoles.** I've a big tin of Tiger Balm and a just-freakin'-tell-me-what-to-do! podcast.

Let's see what happens.





*well, that's another story. never mind. anyway...

**you've never been fitted for shoes 'til you've been fitted by Frank. seriously.