Went for a run this morning. I really did not want to, and am really glad that I did. I did not get out much over the last two weeks, so my motivation has dropped and the whine factor increased. That always happens to me when I get out of my routine. It becomes painful to think about spending my energy working out, and that means I have slipped into the danger zone. Fortunately I have a good base now, so I can get back into the swing of things pretty easily. It wasn't always that way.
It all started back in January '06 when I had my upcoming 20th class reunion. I was feeling a bit out of shape due to baby poundage and no working out at all. I switched my work routine and determined that if I was to survive working seven days in a row consistently I would need to build in stress relief. I got a gym membership where I work and started going three of those seven days, just before work, so it was all quite smooth. I got extra time to myself (Alex was two) and extra endorphins. Oh how I need endorphins, and I will even take them from an indoor track if I have to. I prefer my kayak, or rock climbing, or mountain biking, but those take either loads of time, or a specific time of year, or both. So I went with the always available gym and was able to stick with it. Well, the reunion came summer '06 and I felt pretty fit, which was nice. And I was hooked on workouts, so I just kept it up. Summer '07 I decided I should be able to run a 5km race. I had mostly been lifting weighs up to that point, with a little warm up run of 10 minutes 3 times a week. Since a 5 km takes about 30 minutes I figured I was already ready. Well, I ran the race and got my ass kicked all over the place. Mostly by me. I thought I could go really fast and almost killed myself. My sprint lasted about 3 minutes, and the next 30 were walking, limping, and then slowly running with an inspiring friend. I made it, and ate my humble pie at the finish. Then I got pissed, at myself, and decided to do something totally radical that I had never done before in my 30 odd years... train. Actually train and practice for something. I had always been more of a jump-in-and-do-it kind of a gal. No wonder I never made it to the pros. Oh well. So, I started training for running, at a pace I could manage. I ran so slowly at first that the walkers on the track would pass me. That was embarrassing but I kept at it. The endorphins kept me going, and I made slow gains. Very slow. But gains none the less. I was running three times a week for 30 minutes a session. I was not making the mileage because I ran so slow, but I decided on time as my main focus. I didn't always make my 3 times a week, but when I hit it I felt really good. And by the next spring ('08) I did indeed complete my first fully running 5km. At the back, but I didn't walk, or almost kill myself. I actually completed three races that year, two 5km and a 10km. I decided that for general fitness I would like to participate in four races a year. One per season. Three running and one cross country skiing. I haven't made the skiing race yet, hopefully next year. I will race the Mother's Day Breast Cancer race in May if I am not working. Or I will find another one.
The races are a riot. Who knew?? All those runners aren't just crazy or stupid, as I always assumed. There is a great energy out there at the races, and competition where I seed is minimal, we all just cheer each other on. Gives me a nice training motivation too. I have bumped up my program goal to 45 minutes of running, three times a week. I have not hit it lately, but will get there soon. It gives me so much energy, and cuts down on my whining so much, that I just have to do it. Plus it gets me outside and enjoying the unfolding seasons.
So, I didn't want to run, but off I went. Glad I did, and gotta keep it up. The endorphins are calling my name.
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