a lot of thoughts on running jammed into the first blog.

I'm not what you would call a runner by any means. I'm not the person who shoots out of bed in the morning and eagerly straps on my running shoes just to bolt out the door with a smile on my face running down the streets. Nope. I'm the person who's joined a gym only to lose motivation a month in. I'm the person who has to have results YESTERDAY. I'm the person that doesn't like to sweat. I'm the person who's tried every diet out there including vegetarianism (have been for over 11 years), to low-carb (try that being a vegetarian!), to vegan, to cereal only, etc... Not to mention I've probably spent more on magic weight loss pills, powders, and bars than I've spent on my car. You can call me a lot of things, but a "runner" isn't one of them. Until today. Today something clicked.

Around the beginning of the year I had the realization that I'm not at a healthy weight. I stopped wanting to be photographed which made me sad because I have a young son and was very apprehensive to have my picture taken with him. If someone brought out the camera I insisted on the photo being from my chest up, and I would definitely have to pre-approve anything before it went on the internet. Most who know me well know I am very, for lack of a better word, cheap. I don't enjoy spending lots of money on frivolous things and I like eliminating bills or debt at all costs. Since I've tried every way possible to magically make this extra weight just "disappear" and low and behold, nothing worked, I realized maybe I should try Weight Watchers. I've heard great things about it, I had tried it somewhat back in college and it helped me shed a quick 5 pounds. I wasn't so sure I wanted to pay each month to starve myself but I figured I was at a point where I had nothing else to lose. I signed up, I went to my meetings, I followed the plan religiously (because if I'm paying for it, dammit, I'm sticking with it), and the weight started coming off. HALLELUJAH. Something was working. I had lost about 10 pounds and started feeling better about my body and less intimidated by the big hunk of machinery collecting dust on the porch (aka the treadmill). Now that I was down a few extra pounds it felt a little better to THINK about exercising. My husband is an avid runner. He's the type I spoke of before; he runs in the cold, wind, snow, rain, heat, whatever. He's run half marathons, 25k's, he's a Road Warrior for the Fifth Third River Bank Run, he's part of the Grand Rapids Marathon staff as of this year, and now he's planning a 24 hour relay. Watching him run makes me tired and feel defeated.

Slowly, the idea of getting on the treadmill warmed up. I had told Keith many months ago that if he made the Road Warrior team I would sign up for the 10k. FIRST MISTAKE. Now I had a deadline to do something I've never done before and it's something I dread. Crap. I started walking the treadmill first because I've learned if I go gung-ho I'm going to get mad that the results aren't happening overnight and I'm going to stop. I want to be a couch to marathon superstar, without having to put a lot of work into it. Is that a problem? Yes, apparently.

One day I decided I'd try to jog on the treadmill. I've never run an entire mile without stopping in my life. Ever. The first time I did that I came bursting back in the house, my face beat red and exhausted. My first milestone! Not soooo terrible. Let's see what else I could do when no one was watching. I ran for 20 minutes non-stop. MILESTONE! And like that, little by little, it got a LITTLE easier. I wasn't enjoying myself by any means, but I was able to move my legs without stopping or fear of lung failure looming over me. That right there people, is success in my book.
Now, one of the things I've learned is that it's definitely OK to talk to yourself if you're exercising. I always thought people were nuts if they carried on conversations with themselves. Well, today during my run, I realized I talk to myself A LOT and it's mostly while moving my legs. 99% of the time my brain is telling me "stop, take a breather, you deserve it, you've run 5 minutes straight." But then I have to rationalize with myself and think "you've only run 5 minutes, try going another 5 minutes and see how you feel. What about the people who can't use their legs and would love to run? Your legs are fine so just move them! No one has ever DIED from running on a treadmill in their porch for a few more minutes". Sometimes I have to give myself tough love. It's the only way I listen.
So anyway, as Keith has become more and more of a support system and trainer for me, he's pushing me to do more than I ever thought I could. Since he's knowledgeable in knowing when to rest, when to push harder, what gear to wear, etc...I listen.

I've done 5k's in the past. They weren't anything to be proud of, but I finished them. Today there was a 4 mile Prediction Run that started in John Ball Zoo. Basically you write down what you think your time will be for running 4 miles. Watches are obviously not allowed, so you can't cheat. I was secretly thinking of doing this run but I didn't say anything to Keith. 4 miles is a long way to run! He had made the remark that I was ALMOST going to have 10 miles of training logged for the week this week (would have been 1/2 mile shy). I said to forget that, if I'm coming that close I might as well log the extra 1/2 mile. Somehow the plan went from Keith running this Prediction Run to ME running. EEK. I'm a treadmill runner. I like the machine telling me how fast to move my feet and I like to see how many calories I've burned and how much time I have left on the torture machine. This race is outside, with other people who are REAL runners, and I don't have a watch or anything telling me when I'm done (besides the finish line which is nowhere in sight).

We did all of our routines. Clothes laid out the night before, alarms set, made it to check in on time. Keith decided to run the race with Lennon in the jogger also so it was a fun, family thing. We lined up, they said GO! and my feet started moving. Ugh, running on pavement was HARD and very different from my cozy treadmill setup at home. By the first 1/4 mile Keith had caught up to me and I was seriously doubting myself and pissed off at why I even considered this to be a good idea. No I'm in the back of the group, angry, winded, cold, and I have 4 miles of hell ahead of me. I discovered my least favorite sound today. It's the sound of people running behind you and then seeing them pass you, increasing their distance from you in record time. Very disheartening, discouraging, and can really make a girl second guess why she's out there pretending to be a runner.

I kept on going. I remembered Keith telling me before that the first mile or so is the hardest because your lungs haven't opened up yet. I was biding my time until I could feel my cardio kicking in. IT WAS TAKING FOREVER! I finally got to the first mile marker and it got just a teeny bit better. I was still cold, a little less cranky, but still very unsure of what I was doing. I looked behind me and I saw ONE person. Great. Out of the group that started there is a single soul behind me. "I'm the slowest person out here" is all that kept repeating through my mind. And at that time, when no one was around, is when it clicked.

I started to notice there were geese around me. There was a river and a huge open field. The sun was shining (finally!) and my feet were moving. Not fast, I knew that, but they were still going. I started having the talk reminding myself that there are millions of people who would kill to do what I'm doing and physically they can't. That made me buck up a little. Then I drift off to thinking about the Biggest Loser contestants and how they weigh 300 pounds more than I do and they're working out 12 hours a day. I can handle this 50ish minute task. Next thing I know I'm at the 2 mile marker with my husband who has so graciously killed his own time just to run the race with me for that short time at his turnaround. We chatted for a few about how I was doing and then he was off again, headed towards the finish line, wherever that thing was.

Again, I'm alone in the middle of a field. I made a promise to myself that I would only stop if my legs felt they were going to give out. I stopped 2 more times for 15 seconds. I kept having conversations with myself and I found what my motivation is. SHOPPING. Laugh if you will. Think I'm small-minded, whatever. My second wind came when I started thinking "hey, you know what would make this better? Pink sweatbands! A pink Garmin GPS, new pink shirts and a cute pink jacket! YES! Oh boy, I can't wait to buy lots of things that will help me be a better runner!"
Wait, what? I just called myseld a runner WHILE running. That felt surprisingly good! I was running, it hurt, and I kept doing it. I was in the middle of a field, alone, not a single soul around me AND I KEPT GOING. No one would have known if I walked the whole way back to the finish line, except me. I made a promise to myself and I was making myself stick to it.

I found the milestones I was looking for along the way, a certain fence, a certain fire hydrant, etc...that would tell me how close I was getting to the finish line. I was so close to that line I could see Keith and Lennon waiting for me :) Wanna know something crazy? When I crossed that line, I wasn't even winded. The weirdest thing ever. I felt amazing. I felt like I had been doing this forever. I felt like a runner.

Needless to say we went out looking for important pink running gear in the afternoon, but that was my reward for doing the unthinkable. I'm going to start running outside more, maybe even without music, which is normally really hard for me. I'm still not going to jump out of bed in the morning and eagerly strap on my shoes, but at least I know that when I manage to roll out of bed the pavement isn't necessarily my enemy. We're still getting to know each other though...