I've mentioned a couple of times on here how I loathe running. Like, never ever have I enjoyed it. As a kid, I was always one of the last to finish the mile run (do they even still do fitness tests in school??). It wasn't because I was really unhealthy... in fact, I was a total twig and very active. But I hated every minute of the run. I wasn't fast, it was hot, and I just wanted it to end already. With those kinds of memories, there was no way I was going to do that voluntarily.
Then this past summer, I decided to give it a whirl and for about 4 weeks, I ran on and off. The furthest I think I went was maybe 2 miles? And even that included short walking breaks. Told you I'm pathetic.
But because I had so much going on last week, I found myself craving a good workout. I was sick of working out in my living room. The P90x routine is great, but I like to listen to my iPod, and then I end up missing critical moves (which is really a pain when you're stuck in some kind of weird yoga pose and can't see the tv). We had the treadmill folded up in our living room (not my favorite place for it), but I was always worried I'd wake Noah up during his nap if I used it. Since we had people coming over, Brad and I moved it out to the garage.
So Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving... after I had done the grocery shopping and a ton of cooking... I randomly decided to give running another go. I told myself I'd just hop on and run for as long as I wanted. Once I was tired, I'd quit... keeping in mind that I refused to look at the numbers. Whenever I look at the numbers, my brain starts whining. There's plenty of "UGH! I've only gone ONE MILE?? When is this going to END???" happening. So instead, I listened to my music, focused my eyes straight ahead, and went for it. I wasn't worried I'd wake up Noah. The garage was cool and comfortable. And before I knew it? I had run a 5K. Cold turkey.
Y'all, I don't run 5K's. Except, now I do? Because since then, I've run two more (in fact, yesterday's run was 4.5 miles). No, it hasn't been a breeze, and I'm certainly not going to break any time records. I mentally struggle up to about mile 2. After that, I figure I've already gone this far, I might as well just keep going. Now... call me crazy (go ahead)... but I look forward to it.
The best part? I can feel my legs getting stronger, my butt getting tighter (because let's face it, it's never going to be small... I just have to embrace the booty), and my abs trying to fight their way back. Who knows. I may have


5 comments:
Woohoo! Good for you! Try putting a towel or something over the screen on the treadmill so that you aren't constantly checking out your stats. It's the only way that I can power thru a run inside.
First I LOVE your new header, and the sweet photos and descriptions on the side!! I might need to copy you a little. :=)
Second I'm so proud of you!! I can't believe you ran a 5K after not running for so long? Keep going girl!
As a former Marathon runner I'm very ashamed of myself. I just need to throw on those tennis shoes and do it. You have inspired me!
4.5 miles woman!??!?! you are awesome!
LOVE it! I love that quote you included as well. I was just like you, hated running, hated the mile, would rather jump off a cliff than run, and now something has come over me...I like it???!! CRAZY! Let's do a race together sometime)
You teeny-tiny white girls are HI-larious to me when you talk about having a big booty :-). Have fun with the running. I'll let you do enough for the both of us!
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