C230J

Once upon a time…back before I started this Couch to 5k adventure, it was a dark & stormy night…and it was too goddamn sultry in here. Seriously, I used to watch other people run & wonder why the hell they liked torturing themselves. Think about runners…there they are slogging away on the side of the road, doing their very best Orestes-fleeing-before-the-Furies impersonation; looking absolutely miserable…how can they possibly say they’re having “fun?”

After Friday’s run, I will be an “official graduate” of the C25k program & entitled to all rights & honors conferred upon such individuals. So far, those appear to be 1) sweaty feet, 2) a compulsion to own “just one more pair” of compression shorts, 3) a similar desire to purchase “Sock Guy” socks (they wick moisture – see honor #1), 4) being referred to as “arm candy,” & 5) a smaller pant size.

I can’t help but think, though, that I haven’t actually MET the 5k distance. I have followed the program. I was terrified of the first “10 minute run” & now I can run for 30 minutes. The maximum distance I’ve actually covered in those 30 minutes is 2.5 miles. In my mind, they should rename this program “Couch to 30 Minute Jogger.” C230J. On the other hand, perhaps I’m just slow…

I’ve also decided that running is the anti-yoga. Nothing gets you better in touch with your breath than yoga, that’s widely accepted. However, I’ve noticed that when I am mindful of my breath while running, it actually makes breathing harder. That makes no fricking sense to me. Therefore, I have to focus on my tunes & the landscape I’m powering through and let my lungs worry about the oxygenation. It is, after all, what they do best.

This morning was a tough run. My body was battling with me for the first 10 minutes. My legs said “No, no, no, dammit!” My lungs did their best to convince me I was killing myself, gasping irregularly, desperately. Even my mind was divided – one half whining, “What they hell is wrong with you, child?” & the other half barking, “Fall in line, bitches, we have WORK to do!” Fortunately, that one small, determined part of me won out & I chugged through 2.5 miles. I even conquered my neighborhood nemesis, the somewhat steep & moderately long hill on Eastview Terrace. And I’m hoping, hoping, that Friday I can “really graduate” & hit that magical 3.1. So close…I have just over a month until I run in my first “real” 5k, but still…

So, are runners having “fun?” The answer – they’re not. OK, maybe a few are, but I’m guessing more than most are like me. Last week, on a solo, lunchtime tour of the roads around my place of employment, I began to suffer. I instantly realized that I was now one of those people – those I had ridiculed. That I had “that look” of red-faced desperation on my face as I kept pushing myself, mental spatula stinging, for the last 5 minutes of my run. Runners flee from their Furies…their jobs, their children, their spouses, their obligations…even if they love those people, those hours, & all that shit, they are still demons & running is a brief respite. In addition, it can help a “Slug” become “arm candy.” At least for a little while…