So I have stuck with my running program pretty well. Yesterday the schedule said I had to do 5 miles - 5! OK I know for some people this is probably a breeze but for me this was tough. I was already tired from a long days work. I was dreading the treadmill and I refuse to run outside in 15 degree weather. I finally sucked it up and went to the gym. I wasn't going to allow myself to skip out.
What I want to know is why is there a 5 mile run on the first week? It seems like a lot, especially since I'm just training for a 10K. I couldn't run the whole thing and I didn't want to push myself since I have 7 weeks of training left. I walked the first mile to warm up. Then I started running. The first mile is always the toughest for me. If I can make it past the first mile I'm usually OK for the rest of it. While running, I can feel a blister developing on the inside of my foot near the arch (what little arch I have - my feet are pretty flat). It hurts pretty bad but I push through. I walk the last mile to cool down. Finally I'm done. But I'm not feeling great. I'm tired and my body hurts. My ankles are sore and my knees feel funky. I am doubtful that I can make it back to my apartment and into the shower. Somehow I manage. After the shower, I fall into bed exhausted.
One thing I can say for all this running: I am not drinking alcohol as much. 1) I feel like its such a waste to go run only to add the calories back on with liquid 2) I just don't want alcohol in my body - I am actually craving more water.
Here is my problem: Running does not seem to be getting easier...and I have never had a runners high. I trudge through it, finish, and limp back my resting spot. Is there something I'm doing wrong? Is there something I should be doing that I'm not? Could it be I'm just not a runner? (this is highly likely) 5 years ago I could get up off my couch and run a 5K realitively easy. Is it just that I turned 30 and my body is giving up?
Today the schedule says 4 miles. My body says no but the schedule says yes. Off to the gym I go...
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Texas vs. Alabama...the bet is on!
Its not often that I bet someone on a football game. I don't bet on my college team because, while I was in school, they (well frankly) sucked. So by default I became a fan of the next closest school, UT. I have friends that are Aggies and I'm sure they would be happy to wager on that yearly game but they are so invested (brainwashed?) that I hate to get an Aggie all worked up. To borrow a phrase from my dad, arguing with an Aggie about their school is like wrestling with a pig...you both get dirty but the pig likes it.
Enter my new acquaintance, who, although he didn't go to Alabama, will be rooting for them during Thursdays game. He is obviously not a Texan. We'll call my acquaintance 13 to protect his privacy - its fitting since Bama has won 13 championships, (which he so nicely reminded me of yesterday). This is actually a perfect situation in which to bet. Neither one of us is really attached to either school; therefore neither one of us stands to get really angry at a loss.
13 has decided we should bet a bottle of Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka. http://www.fireflyvodka.com/ He says it tastes just like sweet tea which makes it dangerously delicious. I am actually kind of surprised at this because I think 13 is kind-of a snob. I just don't picture him drinking a $20 bottle of vodka that tastes like sweet tea, but whatever. It sounds yummy to me so the bet is on.
Yesterday, I started the smack talk by sending 13 an email that said "Thought you might want to set this as your background to get ready for Thursday..."
13 responded "And one for you..."
To which I responded: "I fixed your pic for you for after the game..."
13 had no response to this as he was left utterly speechless from my mastery of MS Paint. I thought the sad face was a particularly nice touch.
Today 13 sends me some sort of lame-o article written by an supposed UT fan that says that UT's offense is going to get destroyed by the far superior Bama team. I send him an article back (from the same website, shockingly enough) that gives all the reasons why UT is going to win. 13 doesn't respond.
The smack talk on the phone is starting to get ugly as well. 13 and I almost got in a fight today. I told him if Bama wins I'm not talking to him for a week. He says that I am too easy to get riled up.
Its all in good fun, I think. I guess we'll see after Thursday if 13 and I are still friends.
Enter my new acquaintance, who, although he didn't go to Alabama, will be rooting for them during Thursdays game. He is obviously not a Texan. We'll call my acquaintance 13 to protect his privacy - its fitting since Bama has won 13 championships, (which he so nicely reminded me of yesterday). This is actually a perfect situation in which to bet. Neither one of us is really attached to either school; therefore neither one of us stands to get really angry at a loss.
13 has decided we should bet a bottle of Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka. http://www.fireflyvodka.com/ He says it tastes just like sweet tea which makes it dangerously delicious. I am actually kind of surprised at this because I think 13 is kind-of a snob. I just don't picture him drinking a $20 bottle of vodka that tastes like sweet tea, but whatever. It sounds yummy to me so the bet is on.
Yesterday, I started the smack talk by sending 13 an email that said "Thought you might want to set this as your background to get ready for Thursday..."
13 responded "And one for you..."
To which I responded: "I fixed your pic for you for after the game..."
13 had no response to this as he was left utterly speechless from my mastery of MS Paint. I thought the sad face was a particularly nice touch.
Today 13 sends me some sort of lame-o article written by an supposed UT fan that says that UT's offense is going to get destroyed by the far superior Bama team. I send him an article back (from the same website, shockingly enough) that gives all the reasons why UT is going to win. 13 doesn't respond.
The smack talk on the phone is starting to get ugly as well. 13 and I almost got in a fight today. I told him if Bama wins I'm not talking to him for a week. He says that I am too easy to get riled up.
Its all in good fun, I think. I guess we'll see after Thursday if 13 and I are still friends.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Cowtown 10K
I started my training program for the Fort Worth Cowtown 10K two days ago. The run is on February 27, 2010 at 7:30 am. I am not a morning person, or a runner for that matter, yet somehow I have talked myself into doing this because it will be "good for me."
My first 3 run mile was tough and very slow. I think there are people twice my age that could run faster than I did that day. On top of my slowness, I am recovering from a cold which decided to manifest itself in the form of a hacking cough. So there I am, trying to make the full 3 miles at my glacial pace while hacking up a lung. Somehow I made it. Where was my runner's high? Maybe next time...?
My next 3 mile run was even tougher. I decided to opt for the treadmill this time, since it is bitterly cold this week. Of course my gym is full of would-be athletes working on their resolutions to be healthier, lose weight, blah blah blah (of course I am one of them). I manage to snag a treadmill by the mirror so, lucky for me, I can watch myself struggle to make the run. Its not that bad at first. I have Avril Lavine's "Girlfriend" playing on my ipod/phone which has a nice running pace to it. I visualize how much stronger and leaner I am going to be after this run (being careful to avoid the mirror lest it ruin my fantasy). Then mile two hits and it is time to slow down a bit. My face is really red. Not attractive. There is some girl running next taking long strides like its nothing. Meanwhile I have to tell myself NOT to panic; Yes you can breath; just a little bit longer...
Still no runner's high. Today my ankles hurt and my body feels like someone beat me up. The really great thing is that today I have to step it up and run 3.5 miles. Did I say great? I meant something else...
Cowtown 10K here I come...
http://www.cowtownmarathon.org/default.aspx
My first 3 run mile was tough and very slow. I think there are people twice my age that could run faster than I did that day. On top of my slowness, I am recovering from a cold which decided to manifest itself in the form of a hacking cough. So there I am, trying to make the full 3 miles at my glacial pace while hacking up a lung. Somehow I made it. Where was my runner's high? Maybe next time...?
My next 3 mile run was even tougher. I decided to opt for the treadmill this time, since it is bitterly cold this week. Of course my gym is full of would-be athletes working on their resolutions to be healthier, lose weight, blah blah blah (of course I am one of them). I manage to snag a treadmill by the mirror so, lucky for me, I can watch myself struggle to make the run. Its not that bad at first. I have Avril Lavine's "Girlfriend" playing on my ipod/phone which has a nice running pace to it. I visualize how much stronger and leaner I am going to be after this run (being careful to avoid the mirror lest it ruin my fantasy). Then mile two hits and it is time to slow down a bit. My face is really red. Not attractive. There is some girl running next taking long strides like its nothing. Meanwhile I have to tell myself NOT to panic; Yes you can breath; just a little bit longer...
Still no runner's high. Today my ankles hurt and my body feels like someone beat me up. The really great thing is that today I have to step it up and run 3.5 miles. Did I say great? I meant something else...
Cowtown 10K here I come...
http://www.cowtownmarathon.org/default.aspx
Friday, October 9, 2009
I am NOT afraid to fly.
Ok I am afraid to fly. Terrified of it, in fact. The 15 hour countdown to my Greece trip has started and I'm already starting to get nervous. Thoughts of impending doom keep running through my head paired with reflection on my life. Did I tell everyone I care about how much they mean to me lately? Have all my life choices been the right ones? Do I need to make amends to some people before I leave? Maybe I should make some calls...
I tried to express my concerns to my dad last night at dinner. (FYI - don’t ever talk to my dad if you want to be comforted about a flight.)
As he sips his coffee he says: “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. If you die, you die. Not much to do ‘bout that. You know takin’ offs the most dangerous part. That’s when things go wrong. Engine might fail or sumthin’...but you know them suckers can fly on one engine...hell, they can take off on one engine. But you know if you crash you just crash.”
White-faced I reply, “Thanks for the talk dad.” He laughs.
Of course, I have heard all the truths about flying - how its much safer than driving, more people die in car wrecks per year than plane crashes, only 5% of planes crash and out of that 5% only 1% is fatal. Look, I get it, OK? Its safe.
The problem is when that giant piece of aviation engineering begins hurtling itself down the runway, my heart starts pounding, my hands sweat and I am in a general state of panic. I look around at all the people reading or listening to their mp3 players and think: are these the last people I’m going to see before I die? (I also wonder why I don’t have an mp3 player; damn I should have gotten one!)
I sit in my seat, twisting and turning in attempt to peek out the window and see what’s going on. I’m like a little kid that can’t sit still. Thoughts begin racing through my head. The last place I want to be in the world is on a plane. What if we crash? What will I do? Will it hurt? What if the plane just explodes? Do you die from the explosion or do you die from plummeting to the ground? How come no one else is panicked? Did they not feel that shake? WHY is the plane shaking? Is that normal? Are the wings still attached? I can’t see the wing...WHERE is the wing? There it is! But where is the engine? Is it on fire? What if it catches on fire? When do they serve the alcohol???
And just when full-on panic is about to start, I remind myself that the pilot and crew probably want to make it safely to our destination just as badly as I do. I take a deep breath. The plane begins to level out and I relax a bit. I sit back in my seat. I can do this. Why was I so worried? The seatbelt sign goes off and I see a nice stewardess coming around to take my drink order. Ah, drinks... This isn’t so bad....
That is, until we hit some turbulence.
I tried to express my concerns to my dad last night at dinner. (FYI - don’t ever talk to my dad if you want to be comforted about a flight.)
As he sips his coffee he says: “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. If you die, you die. Not much to do ‘bout that. You know takin’ offs the most dangerous part. That’s when things go wrong. Engine might fail or sumthin’...but you know them suckers can fly on one engine...hell, they can take off on one engine. But you know if you crash you just crash.”
White-faced I reply, “Thanks for the talk dad.” He laughs.
Of course, I have heard all the truths about flying - how its much safer than driving, more people die in car wrecks per year than plane crashes, only 5% of planes crash and out of that 5% only 1% is fatal. Look, I get it, OK? Its safe.
The problem is when that giant piece of aviation engineering begins hurtling itself down the runway, my heart starts pounding, my hands sweat and I am in a general state of panic. I look around at all the people reading or listening to their mp3 players and think: are these the last people I’m going to see before I die? (I also wonder why I don’t have an mp3 player; damn I should have gotten one!)
I sit in my seat, twisting and turning in attempt to peek out the window and see what’s going on. I’m like a little kid that can’t sit still. Thoughts begin racing through my head. The last place I want to be in the world is on a plane. What if we crash? What will I do? Will it hurt? What if the plane just explodes? Do you die from the explosion or do you die from plummeting to the ground? How come no one else is panicked? Did they not feel that shake? WHY is the plane shaking? Is that normal? Are the wings still attached? I can’t see the wing...WHERE is the wing? There it is! But where is the engine? Is it on fire? What if it catches on fire? When do they serve the alcohol???
And just when full-on panic is about to start, I remind myself that the pilot and crew probably want to make it safely to our destination just as badly as I do. I take a deep breath. The plane begins to level out and I relax a bit. I sit back in my seat. I can do this. Why was I so worried? The seatbelt sign goes off and I see a nice stewardess coming around to take my drink order. Ah, drinks... This isn’t so bad....
That is, until we hit some turbulence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)