I can’t believe I’m doing this. But I’ve done it 4 times over the last week. Anyone that knows me knows it’s the last thing I would ever want to do.
Gah! – just typing that makes me cringe. I HATE running. HATE. HATE. HATE. I always have. I think I always will.
At elementary school soccer practice I was always the kid fiddling with her shin guards and cleats so I didn’t have to do the 3-times-around-the-field running warm up. At high school soccer practice I dreaded the “suicide”** sprints our coach made us run after a lousy practice or game. There is a reason I played fullback or goalie. In college I even took Jogging – an honest to goodness 16-week class that I got credit for – hoping that I’d learn to love running. I didn’t. I ended up loathing every second of that class.
But, right now I can’t make it to my beloved trainer 3 times a week like I want. The thought of doing another round of 30-Day Shred or listening to Tony Horton’s cheerful encouragement in Power 90 in the unfinished basement is unbearable. So for almost 2 months I did nothing and felt like a slug.
Last week I finally loaded up the Couch to 5k app, tied on my shoes and headed out under the cover of dusk. And I survived. Although I wasn’t sure I would. The next 2 days I was in pain; like can barely walk kind of pain. But I did it 2 more times to finish the first week.
Tonight I started week 2 which, if you’re not familiar, ramps up the running time by 30 seconds each interval. I’m not going to lie – by the second run my inner dialogue went something like this: “You went through 2 labors without so much as a freaking Advil. You can run 20 more seconds, damn it!” And I did.
I’ll do it again on Saturday, then on again on Monday. Who knows – maybe by the fall I’ll sign up to run a 5k, but don’t count on it; I still hate running.
*It’s more of a jog/shuffle, really. I’m not sure anyone who saw me would call it running.
**I’m sure they’ve come up with a different name for those horrid sprints by now