There's me in a nutshell: somewhat pudgy crazy cat lady tossing books at folks as she stirs the stew on the stovetop.
You'd think with an intro like that I'd offer up an entirely new subject, one never before spoken of on these pages... and you'd be wrong. I'm back to the running thing. Sorry. I've got to be me.
Only it's not me, is it? This running thing, I mean. I've been at it for two and a half months. On average, I run twice a week. I know REAL runners are five days or more, but not all REAL runners teach seven kickboxing classes a week, either.* But this far in, I should be liking it. Or at least tolerating it. I am doing neither. Sure, I had a sinus infection; that made breathing a bit rough. Sure, I had to run in the rain. I had to run hills. I had to ignore the creaky knee, the crackly hip, the spasming shoulder (yes: running affects my bum rotator cuff). What about endorphins? What about the meditative state? The joy? The calm?
Far as I can tell, they're all lies.
A friend who has been running for years tells me that two and a half months is far too early to like running, much less love it. I really want to believe her. Paltry though my efforts have been, I have noticed a significant difference since September 28th. It's not just the weight loss - my body shape has changed. My muscle tone is markedly improved. My skin, eternally plagued with psoriasis, is looking the best it has in the last decade.
So I keep slogging along. It's a struggle to get myself out on the trail. It's sheer agony to work hills. Rain is a beast, but it's nothing to cold weather (I went for a 5k run in 26ºF, windy weather in my capri length cotton workout pants; I had layers up top, but I really need proper gear). I am determined to be fit and healthy and it looks as if running is the best course of action for the months ahead.
Still not counting out Roller Derby, of course, nor Figure Skating. Until I get up the gumption for either of those, though, running it is. Heaven help me.
*Why does this make me so defensive? I sort of puff up and, well... look a bit like this.
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