Wait, why am I doing this?

Now, I'm not entirely new to running. Don't get me wrong, I have never exited beginner status in the endeavor, but I have attempted to start running programs several times. Interestingly, each effort ended with me coming to a dead halt while trying to force myself up a hill, asking myself, "Wait...why am I doing this," and then turning around, heading home, and spending the rest of the day nestled happily in my couch groove. Granted, I'm only about three or four weeks into this thing, but I can't help but notice that things just seem so different this time.

On Tuesday, the husband and I ventured out on what our book described as an "easy recovery run." For squishy people who max out at about three consecutive minutes of running, this means completing nine sets of running for two minutes and walking for two minutes. If you recall, we (well, mostly the husband, but I'd be lying if I claimed I didn't feel as though I had been run over by a bus the next day too) nearly died during our first run of Week Three, so I'm pretty sure this run was designed to serve both as an ego booster and as an opportunity for our poor, beat-up bones and muscles to rest a little. If this was indeed the intention, it worked, because that run was easy, a boost to which the husband and I greedily clung.

The next run, on Thursday, was not only a return to running for three minutes, followed by walking for two minutes, but also doing this nine times. And at 5:30 in the morning, because I had to get up at 8:00 AM to go to my weekly practicum at the local hospital. I won't lie - it was HARD to get up. In fact, we almost didn't. There was literally a point where the husband and I, in unison, said, "Let's just run tomorrow," and went back to bed. It was only while lying there, feeling guilt and disgust creep through me at the thought of our wimpiness, that I kicked us out of bed and forced us to go running. Ultimately, I'm really glad I did, because our run was AWESOME. Despite the early hour and the hills in our neighborhood, there was none of the fatigue we experienced on Sunday, and our stints of running actually felt easy again. We were awestruck.

I think what's different from the previous times I've tried to take up running (aside from the helpful fact that I now have a permanent running buddy in the hubs) is my reason for doing so. In the past, to be perfectly honest, my primary motivator was to lose weight, so that I wouldn't want to throw up whenever I saw myself in a swimsuit. Now that I've hooked the husband and have someone who is obligated to tell me how amazing I look all the time, even if my swimsuit physique is still somewhat lacking, that's not really something I worry about (at least as much) anymore. This time, I wanted running to be something he and I could do together that would make us athletes, in our own little low-key way.

Although we're still far from being people you could describe with that word, I do feel as though we're headed in that direction. There is something so addictive about running up a hill you nearly blacked out attempting the week before or pushing yourself to run for longer than you have previously and finding out that you can do it this time without wishing someone would just put you out of your misery. Similarly, it stuns me over and over again when my muscles complain after being challenged more during a Sunday run (the start of each new week of our program), only to handle the same amount of work later in the week without any (or at least much less) whining. Basically, where I'm going with all this sappiness is the idea that feeling myself get stronger and fitter each time I go out for a run is so much better than doing this to just lose weight. It makes me excited to go running, rather than dreading it with every fiber of my being.

And the irony is that I've already lost three pounds. Go figure.

Onwards to Week Three!

Well, the good news is that I now have hard evidence that this blog wasn't just a whim and may actually last a little while, even if I am the only member of the world's populace currently aware of its existence (no, no, don't feel sorry for me, person who isn't reading this anyway; it's really okay, because ultimately, this is mostly for me anyway). This hard evidence of which I speak is the fact that the blog has acquired more than three posts, as of today. As someone who has been blogging since before it was cool (I started my first as a 17-year-old, waaaay back in 1996, when the Internet was still largely shiny and new), history has taught me that, at any given moment, I tend towards one of two blogging patterns: I either (1) create a blog and then update it loyally over a period of years; or (2) let it peter out after two or three posts. Hooray!

In any case, on Thursday, the husband and I finished up the last run of our running program's Week Two (10 sets of running for two minutes and walking for two minutes). His left calf was a little tight but didn't complain too much otherwise, and our outing was pleasant and pretty uneventful. This morning, we did our first run of Week Three, which involved 10 sets of running for three minutes and walking for two minutes. It proved to be pretty interesting, because this was the first time since starting that the husband and I have found our energy levels to be pretty mismatched. For some reason (perhaps the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had the forethought to consume about an hour before we left the house), I was filled with energy and had no difficulty with our three-minute run periods, even though they involved going up and down several hills. The husband, meanwhile, looked at me earnestly after finishing set seven and pitifully said, "I don't know if I can do this."

However, do it, he did. I spent the next few sets running right next to him, enthusiastically chirping platitudes like, "You can do this," and "This is good for us," which I'm fairly certain either helped tremendously or made him want to punch me out. Afterwards, we drove our course in the car like a couple of complete nerds, realizing that, although it was punctuated by the two-minute periods of walking, we actually ran a distance of somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 miles, which we thought was pretty cool for a couple of couch potatoes. I also tried out a new pair of Asics (the Gel Kayano 16) and discovered that they are heaven on earth for an over-pronating little earth pounder like yours truly. I barely felt like I was touching the ground at all (and I don't see how all runners aren't compulsive shoppers, with all the fun gear you can buy to supplement your training sessions).

The husband and I capped off our morning by going and getting some breakfast, then driving over potential future running sites (we're getting a little self-conscious about running around and around and around our neighborhood, giving embarrassed little nods to the people we keep running into again and again and again as we do so). Another fun little fact we have discovered about running is that it will absolutely make you view your town differently. We hate Tallahassee, but instead of paying as much attention as we usually do to its less attractive sides ("Ah, look. Nothing like the sight of beer cans on a lawn, softly glinting in the morning sunlight"), we were much more focused on thinking things like, "Oooh, hey! That park looks like it has lots of nice places to run!"

Good stuff.

A distracted second post

So, if this post reads all distracted and perhaps a little like a capuchin monkey wrote it, I apologize. I am following the election coverage with one ear, listening to the husband's ongoing armchair commentary with the other ear, and attempting to write with whatever small part of my attentional resources that remains.

Today marked the second run in Week Two of our 13-week running program. As we started off, I mulled over why on earth the diabolical geniuses of the British Columbia Sport Medicine Council would have us start the week with 11 sets of running for two minutes and walking for two minutes, only to drop us back in the week's second run to 10 sets of running for one minute and walking for two minutes. Only after we actually got into set number two or so did it dawn on me that, clearly, this is so that everyone attempting the program doesn't just give up mid-run, go home, and spend the rest of the afternoon eating potato chips on the couch.

I don't know if it was the exertion of our previous run, the fact that we were back in our boring ol' neighborhood without new stimuli to excite our needy little senses, or something else entirely, but today, the husband and I were tired. We managed to complete all of our sets and felt fairly good during and after our run, but it was difficult to believe that we were able to run for twice as long per set last time. We did enjoy a laugh about partway through, when some kid who looked about 19 pranced past us like a gazelle and disappeared into the distance while we were dragging our miserable carcasses up a hill.

The only actual problem we encountered was that the husband's left calf cramped up while headed up said hill. We're not sure why this happened, since we're very good about stretching; do not push our poor, couch-softened bodies too hard; and wear shoes selected for us by Canadian olympians (it helps that, perhaps because I am a weenie who probably has Generalized Anxiety Disorder, I am incredibly paranoid that we will injure ourselves and constantly nagging us to be careful about things like this). Whatever the case, I'm now frantically hoping that the husband has not injured himself, because in my mind, this means that our progress will be derailed, and we will lose the hard-earned ability to run for two minutes at a time.

And then I remember that, really, we're only just starting out, and it's really not that big a deal. Still, I hope his leg is okay, so that we can enjoy a run on Thursday.

Well, hello, there!

A little part of me wishes that I'd started this running blog a little sooner - perhaps a week ago, when the husband and I first started the running program we selected (the 13-week walk/run program described in The Beginning Runner's Handbook. I mean, if you're going to take running advice from anyone, why not the Sport Medicine Council of British Columbia?). Even in that brief time, we've been through so much that I would have loved to write about. For example, our shoe-purchasing trip to the local running store, where, until we went home and Googled them, we failed to realize that both the "salesman" who so patiently fitted us for shoes while fielding our gazillion inane questions and the "cashier" who rang up our stuff had respectively represented Canada in the 1500 Meters at the 2008 and 2000 Olympic Games.

This morning, the husband and I started Week Two of our program, which involved 11 repetitions of running for two minutes and then walking for two minutes, for a total of 44 minutes of propelling ourselves across the landscape using our very own leg-power. We decided to be adventurous and, instead of running around our neighborhood as we have for the past couple of weeks, go to a local park. This turned out to be much more complicated than we had initially thought it would be. Because we were completely unfamiliar with the area, our route today involved running lost and bewildered through a series of wooded trails, self-consciously traipsing through a small housing subdivision while its residents looked on suspiciously, and then jogging up a busy road back towards the trail head and our parked car.

I should also mention that we did not factor in the possibility that one of our running stretches would take us up the Biggest Freaking Hill We Have Attempted So Far. That particular two-minute stint felt like an eternity, and the only way I was able to cope through the majority of it was by going into what I can only describe as some kind of oxygen-deprived trance. Towards the end of the stretch, I pleaded with the husband to tell me how much more of our two minutes remained. He, thinking it would make it easier on me (we both feel like watching the time makes running more painful), refused to answer, until I essentially turned to him, insanity shining in my eyes, and shrieked, "HOW MUCH LONGER? I TELL YOU, MAN, I NEED TO KNOW!" I was so tempted to walk, but both husband and I stuck it out and are now so proud of ourselves (not that we're ever planning on going near that hill again at any point during our respective lifetimes).

Afterwards, wanting to make sure we stretched appropriately, because of the exertion this particular run required (well, for us. Since we're still wimpy n00bs who can barely handle two minutes of continuous running before wanting to vomit all over ourselves), we sat down on the grass to work on our glutes and our hamstrings, where we were promptly and ferociously bitten by ants. So, there were several unexpected parts of this morning's running adventure; however, it was still ridiculously fun, and afterwards, we got to go to Panera Bread and feel both light-headed with endorphiny goodness AND superior to everyone who had not spent the morning red-faced and sweating all over themselves while eating our whole-grain egg sandwiches.

I can see how people get addicted to this running bidness! Now, pray for me and my poor muscles as we feel the after-effects of the Super Hill during our day of rest.