It's kinda daring and kinda scary.
I haven't wanted to say anything, because I was afraid I'd chicken out before the idea got off the ground, and then everyone who reads my journal would call me up or email me, saying things like, "You are SUCH a failure!" and "Jesus, Jamie! Quit telling us about crap when you don't follow through!" and "Would you PLEASE fix your header graphics already, for the love of Diaryland!" Wait... I'm already getting that last one.
As many of you know, I've been taking Tae Kwon Do. Most of you also know I've started lifting weights with my buddy Christy.
Well, I wanted to take it one step further. So I decided I want to be a runner. I'm a very goal-oriented person, especially when it comes to exercise, so I need a target.
I want to run in The 21st Annual Seven Mile Bridge Run. (Don't worry, that link is talking about last year's race. I can still get in on this year's.) I've wanted to participate in both the 19th Annual Race and the 20th Annual Race, but have never been able to. Well, to be fair to me, the 19th Annual Application Period began one week after I moved here, and was probably a bit soon for me to jump on in. Especially since I wasn't, and never had been, a runner.
So I vowed that I would train myself and apply to compete in the next race. Uh, yeah. That never happened. I think I ran all of 6 times the entire year, and never followed through.
But I'm committed this year. (Quick Poll: Would it be WRONG of me to use my radio connections to secure a spot in the race? I'm still undecided.) Christy said she'd do it with me, and the request for applications are sent out. We're training, even though she's in a million times better shape than me. Damn, you guys. She is so good. No one ever taught me to RUN before. She coaches and tells me all this stuff that makes things so much easier. Not easier as in I cheat myself, but I'm tons more efficient. I was feeling guilty about mooching all this personal training off of her, until Christy started thanking me for:
1) Kicking her in the ass.
2) Giving her a goal by tipping her off about the race applications. (She's always wanted to participate, too.) and
3) Helping her get back to basics. She says training me has been a great reminder to herself, because even though she knows what she's SUPPOSED to do and how she should do it, she doesn't always follow her own advice. Hmm. That sounds like... oh, I don't know... everyone.
So I don't feel like such a fitness user anymore.
I'm all pissed off now that Mimi isn't keeping up her running page anymore, because I'd love to keep track of my progress. Hey, maybe that's what I'll do with my pitas page. (See useless link stage left.)
We've been running twice so far. Sunday night was the first time. We walked about 2 miles and ran about 1/2 a mile. We do it in intervals - speed walk, run, speed walk, run. It was easier than I thought it would be, and thanks to Christy's genius advice, I wasn't a Big Bag of Sore the next day.
Last night, we walked and ran about the same amount - just over three quarters of a mile of each. The intervals alternated about 1/3 of the distance each time.
By the time I got to the last leg of running, I have to admit, I wanted to curl up into a little ball in the park and start crying. Christy paces me faster than I would, but I'm trying to trust her and push myself. However, I was really winded and getting tired, fast. (It probably didn't help that before we ran, we just finished lifting weights, focusing on legs, for about an hour.) I have to admit, during that last bit, I was having self-defeating thoughts.
Jamie's Lungs: "I'm not going to be able to finish this."
Jamie's Brain: "I'm dizzy."
Jamie's Legs: "We're shaking like she's doing this in stilettos."
Jamie's Brain: "If you can't even do 3/4 of a mile, how the hell are you going to go 7 miles?"
Jamie's Lungs: "Seriously. We can barely move."
Jamie's Brain: "You are really dragging her back. God, look at Christy. She's isn't even tired. Christ, she's talking. I can barely gasp in the minimum required amount of oxygen for survival, and she's cracking jokes. Shut UP! SHUT UP! I'm going to kill her."
Jamie's Lungs: "Now, stop that. She's helping you, she's being patient, and she's your friend."
Jamie's Stomach: "Yeah, yeah. Could we get some hamburgers down here?"
Jamie's Brain: "Shut up, Gut. No!"
Jamie's Stomach: "How about just a little white wine?"
Jamie's Lungs: "Fuck you, Gut. You know if she drinks wine, she's going to want to smoke. We're barely hanging on as it is."
Jamie's Brain: "You guys! I see the sign at the end!"
Jamie's Legs: "Well, time to crap out."
Jamie's Brain: "NO! Stop it! I feel that! Suck it up and keep moving!"
Jamie's Legs: "Fine. (Bitch.)"
Jamie's Brain: "I heard that. We're not shaving you for a week."
Jamie's Legs: "And this is different how...?"
Jamie's Lungs: "Would you three shut UP? I'm fighting for my life here."
Jamie's Brain: "Whatever, Princess. There is still no way Jamie is going to do seven times this, and then some."
I confessed to Christy that I was doubting myself (censoring out all the inter-organ communication, of course). She told me she was actually thinking that I've been doing better than she expected, and that I've actually been giving her confidence that we can do this.
Let's hope she's right.
