Does This Mean I'm a Registered Rookie?

Well, as we say in the south, I have gone and done it now.

I've registered for my first 5K.

It's not until May, so there's plenty of time to get over my whining about only running 90 seconds every two minutes.  Surely by the first week of May I'll be able to run three miles all together.

Surely.

It's a Blacklight run, so we'll stagger around for a while in the dark.  I think that's a good idea.  I feel sorry for people who can see me run in daylight.  It's just not pretty.

Speaking of things that are not pretty, today's 30-minute training session was...um...interesting.

Our older son plays basketball every Saturday, usually at noon, so we almost always go somewhere to eat afterward.  Today, after his team beat the other team by about 15 points, we celebrated at a favorite Mexican restaurant.  I swear I went in with the idea of getting a small salad, but before I could help myself I had ordered the chicken enchiladas.

Sucker.

I knew that it was probably a bad idea to have eaten such a heavy lunch, but I didn't want to put off today's outing until tomorrow.  So I piddled around for a couple of hours and then decided it was time to head out.

Everything was fine for the first 20 minutes.  I walked when I was supposed to.  I ran when I was supposed to.  I was enjoying the 58-degree weather with a light breeze.

And then it hit me.  The truth and stupidity of what I had eaten for lunch hit me like a ton of bricks.  I checked in with my coach after I got home and told her of my mistake, and she was worried that I'd gotten my first case of something I'd never heard of...runners' trots.  (What an awful term, don't you think?)  Then she sent me a few links so that I could read up and become more educated about the matter.

Oh.  My.  Word.  (Had I known that this was a real thing to consider when running, I bet I would never have signed up for this program.  I mean...really?  I could cry just thinking about it.)

No, thankfully, that didn't happen today.  I mainly felt like I had swallowed several cement blocks and was trying to run uphill at about a 90-degree angle.  It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

I finished the last 10 minutes (and I'll just bet that I looked mighty scary doing it) and scurried back home where I immediately laid down on the floor and rolled around for a good 15 minutes, moaning and wailing.

I'm guessing this is what's known as a rookie mistake and most definitely NOT what they call the "runners' high," right?

Lesson learned.

Week 2 : It's Like Piano Lessons All Over Again

We started our second week, and my handy C25K app and running coach have me running for 90 seconds and walking for two minutes during this week's cycle.  I didn't think the extra 30 seconds of running would bother me, and it didn't...until the last 90-second stretch.

It's not that I was winded or tired or sore.  In all honesty, I felt like I could've plodded on for another half hour or so if I hadn't had to scoot out of there if I wanted to catch most of our older son's basketball practice (which, of course, I did).

But I felt kind of...I don't know...blah about things.  Ninety seconds of running and two minutes of walking.  Will all of this really lead to my being able to run for 30 minutes straight?  Will I ever be able to run for longer than that?  Will I ever be able to write about going out for that long run in preparation for a 10K or a half marathon?

The truth is that I want to be able to run for extended periods now.  I don't want to be a walker who runs for a few minutes here and there.  I want to step out of my front door and run, just like that.

I had the same feeling when I was about seven or eight years old and my parents bought a piano because my older brother and I were going to start taking piano lessons.  I really wanted to be able to play the piano.  After a little while, though, it became clear to everyone involved that I couldn't even borrow musical talent.  I had NONE.  What's more, I hated the lessons.  And I couldn't read music anymore than I could read a French novel.  I mean, I could tell you what the notes on the paper were, thanks to remembering that "Every Good Boy Does Fine" and "All Cows Eat Grass."  But in order for me to play anything, I had to memorize segments at a time and then put it all together.  At best it was a disaster.

Finally, after what seemed like half my life had gone by, my parents said that I could stop torturing everyone and they let me quit.  When my grandfather found out, he actually thanked me.  I don't think he could've taken one more screech-filled recital.

I guess my point to all this whining and moaning is that there's a seven-year-old trapped inside me, once again, screaming that she wants to be able to do it NOW.  I don't want to think about taking it slowly.  I don't want to practice and learn the steps.

I want the end result at the beginning.

Of course, the times in my life when I've tried to make things happen that way I ended up (a) playing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" 34 times because I couldn't read the sheet music OR remember how to end the piece, and (b) with shin splints.

So...90 seconds of running and two minutes of walking it is.

Day 3 -- You've Really Got to Watch Out for Those Grocery Store Injuries

Today's adventure in becoming a runner was mostly uneventful.  My plan, since it was kind of cold and drizzly, was to go to the church and run around on the nice upstairs track that encircles the basketball courts.  The boys wanted to go with me, so we piled into my nerd wagon and off we went.

It was a great plan except for the part when we pulled into the parking lot and realized that the gym isn't open on Sunday afternoons.  You'd think I would've checked on this yesterday when we were there for our older son's basketball game, but it never occurred to me that the church gym would be closed today.  I really should pay more attention...  And I really should've used the church gym before now...

Any-old-hoo.  I went to plan B, which was simply to brave the elements and run outside.  Our older son decided that he'd rather stay at home than plod around in 40-degree weather that might see rain, so he wished me luck and settled himself under a blanket on the couch with  his dad for a little football.  Our younger son, who is five, decided that it was up to him to keep me company.  And if we just happened to go to the nearby park, which has a nice little walking path around it, even better.

So that's what we did.  I staggered around in circles while he played on the swings and slides.  (By the way, I've decided that it is biologically impossible for five-year-olds to NOT jump in, kneel in, slide into, or sit in puddles.  Because that is what he did for 30 solid minutes, and I must say that he had a fine old time doing it.)

When the lady on my app told me that it was time to cool down with the last five minutes of walking, we started for home and by the time we got to our front door, I was done.  The little fellow and I both changed our clothes, he joined his brother and daddy, and I went on my merry way to the grocery store.

Now, when I started this program many moons ago last week, I knew that I might sustain an injury here and there.  It's just part of it.  No matter how many stretches and warm-ups and cool-downs I do, I'm bound to hurt something at some point.  I expect it, at some point, from running.

But from Kroger?

I have to admit.  I never saw this one coming.

Now, let me be the first to say that no one has ever accused me of being graceful.  Or particularly attentive to my surroundings, or the least bit coordinated, for that matter.  I mean, I have injured myself in some pretty embarrassing ways.

For instance, during a high school homecoming parade in which I was riding on the back of a convertible, I managed, somehow, to roll right off into the street while the car was at a complete stop.  I'm still not sure how it happened, but I had some pretty nice bumps and bruises to show for it.

Then there was the time when my mom and I were at the food court in the mall and, while I was carrying our tray, I missed a step down into the dining area and dropped to the floor, spraining my ankle (but not spilling the first bit of food, thank-you-very-much).

And my favorite was a few years ago when the toe of my shoe caught the edge of the top step of our front porch and I went barreling into the front door, bruising my kneecap and blackening my eye.

But, until today, I have managed to never have a grocery-related injury.

It went something like this.

We were out of peanut butter, and that is a mighty big deal around our house because it's one of about six things we can count on the five-year-old to eat.  As I reached down to get the twin pack of Jiff off the bottom shelf, I managed to drop my pen, which rolled about halfway into the aisle behind me.  So I grabbed the peanut butter with one hand and turned ever so slightly to pick up the pen with my other hand, and that's when I felt it.  The tiniest little twinge waaaaay over to the left in my lower back.

Okay, in all honesty, the twinge wasn't so little.  It was more like kind of sharp.  I may have staggered sideways a little bit.  Or, perhaps, all the way across the aisle.  One of the shelves may have broken my fall.  And about 427 a few boxes of Frosted Mini-Wheats might have fallen to the floor.  I very well could've said hell-damn right out loud.  I don't really know.  It's all kind of a blur.

At any rate, I got myself together, gathered the rest of the things on my list (and tried like the devil to find a brand new bottle of PRIDE...with no luck...) and came home, a little worse for the wear.

I suppose now I'll have to start stretching before going to the grocery store.  Goodness knows, it couldn't hurt.

Day 2 --- Baby, It's Cold Outside

Well.

Someone challenged Mother Nature to show us what she's made of here in Memphis, and she came to play, baby.  Because it's cold outside.

I think it was something like minus 147 six degrees when my alarm went off this morning at 5:30, so I stayed in the bed until it warmed up to a balmy seven degrees.

What makes it even more fun for us is that we live in an old -- and I mean OLD -- house with varying ceiling heights and sub par insulation at best, so even though we set the thermostat at 72, a more accurate temperature in the house this morning was about 39.   At least that was my guess as I took the quickest shower of my life and prayed for the house to catch on fire at that very moment because of the heat the flames would provide.  (I begged my husband to buy this house 14 years ago.  It's quaint, I said.  It's charming, I said.  It has character, I said.  These days all I can say is Hell-damn.  It's cold.) (Thanks to my Great-Aunt Billie, hell-damn is my favorite ugly word combination.  I apologize if it offends anyone, but as Mark Twain said, "Under certain circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.")

As the day wore on and the wind chill never rose above the legal drinking age, it became clear that running outside, especially for wimps beginners, probably wasn't going to happen.  So we teachers moved it inside and did what we tell students NEVER to do in the school building.  We ran up and down the halls.  I'm not going to lie...that part was kind of fun.  Some teachers even ran up and down the stairs.  We really know how to walk on the wild side when students aren't there to see us, eh?

I am pleased, and quite pleasantly surprised, to say that today was easier than Tuesday.  Our coach and a couple of other experienced runners told me this morning that today would be better and that I would only beg for something like life in prison rather than the sweet release of death that I prayed for Tuesday.  (You know, thanks to all the fat-whacking pain and all.)

It turns out that they were right.  I didn't dread the running intervals, and the whole session seemed to go by more quickly.  Plus, I'm not as sore as I was this time Tuesday.  Now it only hurts when I sit down, get up, and climb stairs as opposed to hurting during those activities and when I stand, walk, bend over, or breathe.

Score.

The next walk/run will be sometime this weekend, which will more than likely be Sunday.  Since the temperatures aren't supposed to climb above freezing this weekend, I am sure my ugly shoes and I will find somewhere indoors where Mother Nature cannot control the thermostat.

Brrrrrrr!!!!!

Day 1 -- I Have Some Thoughts...

I realize that this will post on Wednesday night, and our first day of running/walking/crawling/dragging was Tuesday.  I haven't even gotten going properly and I'm already behind.

Fantastic!

Our coach sent each of us our training plans over the weekend, and most of us are on a walk/run program, much like you'd find in the Couch-to-5-K program.  After a five-minute warm-up, we alternate walking for 90 seconds and running for 60 seconds for 20 minutes and then we cool down with a five-minute walk.  This will go on for a week or two.

Or until I lose the will to live.

Whichever comes first.

Anyway...

When I read my plan for the first time I actually thought it sounded great.  Piece of cake, I said to myself.  I'll be zipping along to my first 5K in a matter of days, I told myself.  I hope my coach won't mind upping my training schedule, I said.  Running for a minute every other minute and a half?  I'm all over it.

Here's the funny thing about my sense of reality.  I have none.

We started with a few tips on stretching.  We asked questions.  She answered.  And then she turned us loose.

The five minute warm-up?  I loved it.  It felt great to be outside and walking at a nice brisk pace, laughing with a group of funny friends, breathing in the cool crisp air.

And then the timer went off.  It was time to run.  So I ran.  And a few things crossed my mind.

• Fat hurts.  I mean, it HURTS when it has nothing to do but jiggle around and smack its host.  It's like being hit with 38 wet towels in the stomach.  And in other places.  Ouch.
• Can you exercise in Spanx?
• Sixty seconds is not very long when you're, say, watching a movie and eating a bowl of popcorn.
• Sixty seconds can seem like an eternity when your fat is giving you a good fat-lashing.
• You can repeat the phrase hell-damn sixty times in one minute.  (Guess how I know?)
• Have I mentioned that fat stings when it is jostled about?
• When it's 37 degrees outside and you're engaged in physical activity, your nose will run.  It will run faster than your legs are moving.  This is not comfortable.  Nor is it attractive in the least, I'm sure.
• Would it be strange to run with a roll of toilet paper somehow attached to your nose?
• How completely out of shape must I be to find running 6 minutes out of 20 taxing?  Am I part sloth?
• I am glad I do not live in an area that is very hilly.  Hills, to a runner, must be slopes of evil.
• Stop me if I've already said this, but bouncing fat does not give you a warm, fuzzy feeling.

After my app told me that I could cool down and then stop, I went back inside the school and our fearless leader went through some stretches with us.  I like the stretches.  They didn't make me want to use profanity.  Much.

With day 1 behind me, I got into my car and started the 30-minute drive home.  I started thinking about the previous half hour, and (if I'm completely honest) I felt kind of low for a few minutes.  If running for a minute at a time was no picnic, what in the world makes me think I'll ever run for 30 minutes (or more) straight?  Am I kidding myself into believe that I'll be able to do this and like it?
The bottom line is that this is going to be harder than I thought for a little while.  It might be hard until the end of the program.  I'm not sure I'm up for this.

And then I had a few more thoughts.

• So what if it's hard?  Stay with it until it's not.  See it through.
• In general, I'm pretty healthy.  I need to lose a few pounds, but other than that, I'm healthy.  Should I really complain about running (or walking, biking, swimming, whatever...) when there are others who would gladly use what I take for granted?  
• The timing of this program is too perfect.  I am supposed to be doing this.  Now.  There is a reason that the opportunities fell into place as they did.
• I feel good.  (Now that the fat isn't jiggling, of course.)  But something about those 30 minutes feels good.  
• My head feels a little clearer. (Perhaps it was because everything in my head ran out of my nose.  Who's to say?)  
• I laughed. (When I wasn't gasping for air, obviously.)  And laughter is the best.

The bottom line is that those 30 minutes were worth the effort.  And they'll be worth it on Day 2.

The Playlist

With my iPod ordered and on its way and the first meeting of our little running club just a few days away, I thought I'd list some of the tunes that I hope will keep me at least interested motivated to stick with it.

A girl can dream, right?  So here goes...

Rolling in the Deep, Rumour Has It, Set Fire to the Rain  (Adele)  -- I love Adele.  I hope I don't lose my mind and start singing along as I try to run.  Oh, who am I kidding.  I'll be too focused on breathing and not falling down.

Dream On (Aeromsith) -- Maybe this should be my theme song.

Staying Alive  (The Bee Gees) - No, wait.  THIS should be my theme song.

The Thunder Rolls, The Beaches of Cheyenne, Standing Outside the Fire, We Shall Be Free, Callin' Baton Rouge (Garth Brooks) -- Who isn't in a better mood when Garth is singing?

A Matter of Trust, We Didn't Start the Fire (Billy Joel) -- Billy Joel's music just makes me happy.

I'm on Fire, Born to Run, Streets of Philadelphia (Bruce Springsteen) -- I do love some Bruce!

That's the Way it Is, A New Day Has Come, I Drove All Night (Celine Dion) -- Don't judge me...

Roar, Firework (Katy Perry) -- I put these on my list so that my boys will think I am the coolest mom ever...rather than the nerdy mom who sings along with Celine Dion.

Breakaway, Since U Been Gone, Because of You, Stronger (That Which Doesn't Kill Us), Miss Independent (Kelly Clarkson) -- Who doesn't love Kelly Clarkson?

Safe in the Arms of Love, When God-Fearin' Women Get the Blues, This One's for the Girls (Martina McBride) -- Preach it, Martina!

Come to My Window, I'm the Only One (Melissa Ethridge) -- I like her music.  I'm not sure I spelled her name right, but I'm too lazy to look it up right now.  That laziness does not bode well for my running.

I Try to Think About Elvis, Here I Am, You Can Feel Bad, She Drew a Broken Heart, Timber...I'm Falling in Love (Patti Loveless) -- I love Patti Loveless.  She's old-school country.  And I'm old, so there.

Is There Life Out There, Fancy, The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia, Because of You (duet with Kelly Clarkson) (Reba McEntire) -- I couldn't include country music without songs by one of its queens.

Pride (In the Name of Love), With or Without You, Where the Streets Have No Name, One  (U2) -- I think every playlist needs something from U2.  But what do I know?  This is my first one.

Come to think of it, what song(s) should be on a good (running) playlist?  If anyone stumbles across ye old blog here and has a suggestion, please let me know.  I need all the help (and motivation) a girl can get.

Getting Over Myself

So after yesterday's panic attack and meltdown on the blog, I decided that I have two choices.  Return the shoes and give up before I even start  OR get over myself.

I've decided to get over myself.

I'm probably the last person left on earth who doesn't own an iPod of ANY variety.  I've just never seen the need for one or felt the urge to get one.  First, I'm not that big of a music person in that I don't need to listen to it for long periods of time.  I'm perfectly happy to listen to the radio or the CD player when I'm in my car.  Second, I have never been a fan of earphones, and I'm fairly certain that ear buds would drive me completely nuts.  Thus, I've resisted any kind of portable listening device for the last 100 years or so.

Until now.  Last night, after I shut down my pity party and put my big girl underwear-britches  on, I ordered an iPod.  Just the shuffle.  No need to go crazy when the ear buds will most likely drive me berserk anyway.

Then I downloaded about 392 songs from the iTunes store and they're just sitting there in some cyber-holding-cell waiting for the arrival of the iPod.

Who knows?  Tomorrow I might turn into one of those people who rides along in the car listening to her iPod instead of the radio.

(I seriously doubt it, though.  I'm just trying to get over myself, not ahead of myself.)