Friday afternoon was super cold.
Well, it was March 2nd and in the (high) 30’s. We have been VERY spoiled this winter.
See also? I’m a weenie and don’t like to be outside when it’s that cold.
When I made the comment about it being too cold outside to run, my boss reminded me that employees can use the cardiac rehab facility at the hospital after hours.
But I figured it was for the best and since I had TIME to run, I should make the most of it and just get it over with.
I learned a few things:
1) I will not get a gym membership unless I decide to start lifting. Or if I am promised an unbelievably hot trainer that will workout with me. And he MUST be topless the entire time.
2) I absolutely despise running on the treadmill.
Why, you ask?
Firstly, I get bored. When I’m running on a trail or through a neighborhood, I can give myself mini-goals. “I can make it to the next mailbox before I throw up.” or “Keep going! That old man just passed you! You are embarrassing yourself!”
You know. Usually it’s encouraging stuff like that.
But when I was on the treadmill on Friday, my only goal was, “Only 500 more steps until you can walk again!”
Secondly, it gives me an overinflated ego that comes crashing to the ground when I run outside again.
When I was on the treadmill, I didn’t feel like I wanted to die! I was working up a good sweat but I never felt like it was more than I could handle. I knew I was going to be in trouble this weekend.
And I was painfully accurate.
On Saturday, I ran Week 4, Day 1 of C25K and there are 2 running intervals that are 3 minutes and 2 running intervals that are 4 minutes. The 3 minutes I knew I could deal with. It was the 4-minute bastards that scared the living daylights out of me.
I did the first 3 minute and felt decent. (I hate to ever say that I feel good after running any distance so we will stick with decent.) After the first 4 minute run, I knew I was in a bit of trouble. I ran the entire 4 minutes and didn’t phone it in, but I was feeling it. As I geared up for the 2nd 4-minute run, I tried to quiet the negative voice but as I hit the 3:30 mark, I started to feel like I was going to throw up.
As in, OMG, I can feel the chunks rising in my throat.
Not to mention the fact that my legs were burning and I had a stitch in my side like none other.
So I conceded and walked the last 20 seconds of my second 4-minute run.
And I felt like such an absolute failure because, “C’mon ya’ crybaby! Anybody can run for another 20 seconds!” And while I do deserve to be ridiculed, I really didn’t think I was going to make it another 20 seconds. So I walked the last teeny bit of my second 4 minutes. After my walk, I felt a little better but, again, I knew that I would be in trouble when it came time to run again. And sure enough, after 3 minutes and 20 seconds of walking, it was time to run again.
And I thought I was going to throw up.
Even though this run was only 3 minutes.
I had pushed my body about as far as the old girl could handle and she was definitely pushing back. Again, even though I knew that I would hate myself for it, I walked the last 30 seconds of that run.
::Hangs head in shame::
I vowed to myself that it was just a bad run and that Sunday would be better.
“It’s okay!” I thought cheerily to myself, “You did it! You finished the run. Who cares if you shorted yourself less than a minute of the full 14 minutes. You got your butt off the couch and exercised! Good job, self!”
But then Sunday happened.
And the kids were gone and Greg wanted to take me out to breakfast and, of course I over-ate because, “I will just exercise later! It will be fine!” so I was a big fat slug the rest of the morning.
Side note: Does anybody else waste an entire day because you think you have all of this time to get something done and then at the end of the night, you crawl under the covers and realize that you, in fact, did nothing that was on your to-do list? Good. I’m glad it’s not just me. I think it’s the freedom of having an entire day to get things done that cripples me.
On Sunday, it was after noon before I finally drug myself off of the couch, changed into my running clothes and got to business.
And do you know what happened? Despite my Saturday pep-talk, I did worse! I’m not sure if it was fatigue from running 3 days in a row, or too much bacon and cheese omelette or just that I had decided that it was going to be a bad run and had talked myself out of it before I even started. But. On Sunday, I ran same course as Saturday but on the same 4-minute run interval, I walked the last (almost) minute and on the last 3-minute interval, I walked the last 30 seconds.
And I still felt like I was going to throw up.
I still felt like throwing up and I actually ran less.
So, in conclusion, I still hate running. So much so that it makes me want to vomit. But I continue to do it because I know that it’s good for me and I’m proud of how much better I’ve gotten over the last month.
I still run because there’s not a good enough excuse to keep me from it.
And I keep running because I really want to do a half-marathon on my 30th birthday (although Greg pointed out to me this weekend that my birthday is in July and if I run a half-marathon, I will probably have a heat stroke because it will, no doubt, be 110 degrees in the shade that day. Touché, Greg. So I guess I will run it in honor of my 30th birthday rather than on the actual day.)
There’s a quote (and I have no idea who said it so, sorry. I’m not trying to steal intellectual property. I just have a shitty memory.) that says something about if your dreams aren’t scary, then they aren’t big enough. And I guess that’s what I’m going for. My dream to fit comfortably into a bikini and to be able to run a half-marathon are scaring the shit out of me right now so I guess I’m on track.
**Edit to Add: As my mom pointed out in the comments section, I won’t be 30 until NEXT July (2013) so I have roughly 18 months (the 2 months that I’ve already been running and the 15.5 until my 30th birthday) to prepare. I realized that when I typed this post but you aren’t inside my head (count your lucky stars) so you might have thought that I was considering a half-marathon this summer. Ha. Haha. Bwahahahahaha! When I can run a few solid miles without vomitting, that goal will be much more realistic.