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.