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.