I realize that I got halfway through a victorious fist-pump post about my running prowess, but then... LIFE. I never followed through and posted. A lack of follow through is one of my biggest pet peeves (along with an out-of-the-blue overabundance of communication silence), so I'm shamed. Ended up deleting my post, so here's a 2-for-1 special.
V is for Victory!
Running... yes! I passed the 20-minute mark a couple weeks ago quite successfully and easily, but it would be a bold-faced Pinocchio lie to say that it's been all easy, breezy, and beautiful since then. I'm currently 2/3 of the way through Week 7 of C25K and, for the last week, there haven't been any more walking "recoveries" interspersed among the running intervals. Honestly, having to run "straight!" from here on out caused a larger panic attack for me than needing to run for 20 minutes out of the blue. But. I. Have. Continued. On. And. Rocked. IT!
Rocking wasn't always the case, however. After a couple runs in the cold/rain where I finished purely by the stubborn gritting of my back teeth, I was frustrated that my pace and distance weren't where I was "supposed" to be... by the C25K standards of 10-minute miles. This elusive time is still just that: elusive. Much like the BMI standard that my calorie counter tells me that I "should" be at. Allow me to take a moment to shake my fist and blow a derisive raspberry at the mystery "they" who are the BMI/C25K gods -- for all I know, they're the same people, the bastards.
**I'll get there eventually, but today is not that day and tomorrow isn't looking good either.** And I'm okay with that. For now. But I'll keep plugging away at it, optimistically, whole-heartedly, realistically, and triumphantly. With chocolate!
I wasn't always okay with that. Just a few days ago, after a particularly challenging run that was the same time/distance/course I had rocked just two days prior, I was--in a word--grumpy. I kicked myself in the ass, hard, for not being able to rock the pace/distance that I felt I *should* be: at least 11-minute miles and at least 2.5 miles!
While I was beating myself up, someone else kicked me in the ass, but in a far better way. He, a champion runner and a supportive pillar during my fitness and C25K journey, gently reminded me of my panicked phone call to him the week before my first 20-minute straight-running Day 3 of Week 5. He reminded me that I didn't think I could run a mile let alone over a mile (in fact, I rocked close to 25 minutes and 2 miles just out of sheer stubbornness that morning). He reminded me that, only a couple weeks prior, I was crowing with delight that I could run for 3 minutes at a time -- and yet doubting myself that I'd be able to run 5 minutes the next time. And he reminded me that, only at the beginning of the year, I wasn't able to run at all. He reminded me that I need to stop doubting myself and my, well, tenacity. "Doing it right" means it'll get done eventually. The form and confidence come first, the pace and distance come later. And the waistline and heart will improve either way! 15, 20, 8, or 10 minutes... a mile is still a mile!
I stopped kicking myself for not having the pounds melt away like they have been because, DUH, I'm gaining muscle that weighs more. I instead measured myself and caressed every square inch of curve for shedding 10" overall. I kissed my lips in the mirror and didn't blush at my vanity. I applauded my naked body. And I shook my tight end in a celebratory "booty pop!" Excuse me while I do it again. *POP*
I'm nearing the end of the 9-week C25K. I start Week 8 next week and, frankly, I'm a little nervous that I'll slip and slide without the app's guidance during my workouts. Left to my devices, pun intended, Lord knows what'll happen. I don't think I'm ready to fully be on my own and spread my wings. I'm busily researching other apps and extensions to the app I have -- perhaps training for a 10K is the way to go? Bring it on! *GULP*
T is for Tickets!
I. Am. Not. A big fan of Eat Pray Love (which is currently on TV), but the response "Please please please -- buy a ticket!" to the plea "Please please please -- let me win the lottery!" has me musing. I've been looking for a mantra or metaphor for 2013 and I think this is it. 2013 is my year of deliberate, determined, and delicious "ticket purchases."
With regards to my health, I'm buying more and more "tickets" for running, eating smarter, and feeling happier/stronger. I'm determined to "do it right," as I've said before, so I'm literally buying "tickets" for regular massages, proper clothing/shoes/compression sleeves, phone apps, etc. I'm buying "tickets" by researching frequently, comparing notes with fellow runners, encouraging other beginners/veterans of the running arts alike, doing dynamic stretches before and static stretches after, changing it up in terms of courses, dragging my ass out of bed before 8 am to run before breakfast, dragging my ass and all other bits out of the house when it is snowing/raining/disgusting outside, etc.
With regards to my romantic relations, I'm certainly "ticketing" around... well, to a point. I am not opposed to the man of my dream walking through my door, and I am dating a little just to stay sharp and in practice, but I'm not active. Being in a relationship with running is the only commitment I'm willing to work on right now. I realize that I was never in love with a recent ex. I'm not desirous of getting back into a full relationship with another relatively recent ex. And I just last night had a surprise encounter of the delightful lip-lock variety with someone. I am honest with the fact that I want the gf/marriage/kids "ticket," yet I've not already purchased the "ticket." I'm not waving it around and wondering where that damn train is. As it is with my running...
**I'll get there eventually, but today is not that day and tomorrow isn't looking good either.** And I'm okay with that. For now. But I'll keep plugging away at it, optimistically, whole-heartedly, realistically, and triumphantly. With chocolate!
With regards to my career, further education, finances, etc. ... it's stalled. I'm frustrated that my head is ramming up against the glass ceiling. I've climbed as far as I am able to go, barring a drastic revision of the academy in which I'm seen as more than a mouthpiece to the "butts in the seats" (a figure of speech cultivated by our new NC governor... grr). I have had some recent fires lit under my not-as-curvy-as-it-used-to-be backside, though. Some revelations about working with military servicemen and veteran students, writing, creative writing, and going back to school will need several more posts of their own since this one is already quite puffy. Suffice to say, a recent tarot reading (yes yes, I need to blog about that too) was right on -- I am the mistress of my own destiny and have only myself to blame for my lack of fulfillment in material things. By material things, I mean my finances, yes, but mainly my education/work.
**I'll get there eventually, but today is not that day and tomorrow isn't looking good either.** And I'm okay with that. For now. But I'll keep plugging away at it, optimistically, whole-heartedly, realistically, and triumphantly. With chocolate!
Cheers to that!
~E
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