Since I began running back in 2008, at the prompting of my crazy-ass sister, I've always thought of myself as the tortoise, the one who beat the hare in the fable "The Tortoise and the Hare". I called it "running" but let's face it, when my teenage son said "Mom, I could walk this fast", while plodding along-side me, he spoke the truth. I may be slow, but three years later, I'm still running.
It all started when Crazy-Ass suggested we do the Bolder Boulder. I laughed. Me, run? You're serious? She handed me a photo-copied page from Shape magazine, claiming a walk to run program could work for anyone. Thirty pounds overweight due to a new job, three kids and TONS of other excuses, I thought, "This butt hasn't gotten any smaller using my walk to fridge program, so why not?"
Crazy-Ass wasn't a big time runner. She had run a couple 5K's to impress a hot guy once. Essentially, we'd be doing this walk to run thing together. It was early in the season and Colorado is not known for its fine running weather in February; so, we figured we'd start out doing treadmill walk/runs at our own gyms and text eachother to keep motivated. The plan looked something like this:
Week 1 - Walk 4 minutes / Run 1 minute. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 2 - Walk 3 minutes / Run 1 minute. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 3 - Walk 2 minutes / Run 1 minute. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 4 - Walk 2 minutes / Run 2 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 5 - Walk 2 minutes / Run 3 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 6 - Walk 2 minutes / Run 4 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 7 - Walk 1 minutes / Run 5 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 8 - Walk 1 minutes / Run 7 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 9 - Walk 1 minutes / Run 9 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 10 - run for 30 minutes
Keep in mind, the Bolder Boulder is a 10K; so, we would have to make up the rest as we went along.
So, I decided to give the treadmill at work a try, given the fact it was the only treadmill I had access to at the time. I found some athletic shoes I bought at a discount store, some old sweats and a t-shirt. It was what I had laying around, and I was hoping it would pass for running clothes. One day after work, I decided to swallow my pride and brave the workout room. I peaked in the door and found, to my GREAT relief, that no one was there. As I approached the treadmill, I thought of those cartoons I used to watch as a kid, in which a character would go flying off the back end of a treadmill that got going too fast. That would be me, I was sure of it, flailing into some unsuspecting weight machine. At least no one would be around to witness my demise. Sure, I might bust my head open, but bleeding to death was surely better than subjecting myself to the humiliation of someone seeing me "run" on a treadmill for the first time!
I stepped onto the machine, hesitating as I tried to figure out the buttons. "Manual" is always a good choice, I thought, so I pushed it. I figured out that if I pushed the up arrow to 3, I could keep up as the belt went round and round. I looked at the timer: 30 seconds in. By the time it was time to run, I was working up a little bit of a sweat and had pushed the arrow up to 3.5 - Woohoo! Now, what does it mean to run? Hmmm.... I pushed the up arrow some more until I saw the readout say 4.8. That feels pretty good. Wow, am I really running? Before I knew it, one minute was over and it was time to walk again. I was a little disappointed as I pushed the arrow down to a walking pace. That's it? That's all I have to do? Yes, even I can "run" for one friggin' minute, I thought.
For the next 25 minutes, I imagined myself as a runner. I visualized myself running outside on the street. I thought about the runners I had driven past and thought - that guy's nuts! I realized - that could be me! And I was thrilled about it. Truth be told, I was always envious of those loonies. I thought to myself, I'm actually going to be one of those whack jobs huffing and puffing along the road, while sane passersby observe from their air-conditioned vehicles. After years of hating running (I don't like all that jiggling!) I was finally doing it. Granted, one minute at a time, but isn't that how you have to start everything? One minute at a time? One step at a time? One word at a time? Isn't that how we all learned to talk, walk, read, or ride a bike? If only we had the patience with ourselves that we have with our children as we teach them these vital life skills. I decided then and there to be patient with myself. To be kind to myself. To bless myself with 30 minutes a day to walk and run. And a tortoise was born.
It all started when Crazy-Ass suggested we do the Bolder Boulder. I laughed. Me, run? You're serious? She handed me a photo-copied page from Shape magazine, claiming a walk to run program could work for anyone. Thirty pounds overweight due to a new job, three kids and TONS of other excuses, I thought, "This butt hasn't gotten any smaller using my walk to fridge program, so why not?"
Crazy-Ass wasn't a big time runner. She had run a couple 5K's to impress a hot guy once. Essentially, we'd be doing this walk to run thing together. It was early in the season and Colorado is not known for its fine running weather in February; so, we figured we'd start out doing treadmill walk/runs at our own gyms and text eachother to keep motivated. The plan looked something like this:
Week 1 - Walk 4 minutes / Run 1 minute. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 2 - Walk 3 minutes / Run 1 minute. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 3 - Walk 2 minutes / Run 1 minute. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 4 - Walk 2 minutes / Run 2 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 5 - Walk 2 minutes / Run 3 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 6 - Walk 2 minutes / Run 4 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 7 - Walk 1 minutes / Run 5 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 8 - Walk 1 minutes / Run 7 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 9 - Walk 1 minutes / Run 9 minutes. Repeat for 30 minutes.
Week 10 - run for 30 minutes
Keep in mind, the Bolder Boulder is a 10K; so, we would have to make up the rest as we went along.
So, I decided to give the treadmill at work a try, given the fact it was the only treadmill I had access to at the time. I found some athletic shoes I bought at a discount store, some old sweats and a t-shirt. It was what I had laying around, and I was hoping it would pass for running clothes. One day after work, I decided to swallow my pride and brave the workout room. I peaked in the door and found, to my GREAT relief, that no one was there. As I approached the treadmill, I thought of those cartoons I used to watch as a kid, in which a character would go flying off the back end of a treadmill that got going too fast. That would be me, I was sure of it, flailing into some unsuspecting weight machine. At least no one would be around to witness my demise. Sure, I might bust my head open, but bleeding to death was surely better than subjecting myself to the humiliation of someone seeing me "run" on a treadmill for the first time!
I stepped onto the machine, hesitating as I tried to figure out the buttons. "Manual" is always a good choice, I thought, so I pushed it. I figured out that if I pushed the up arrow to 3, I could keep up as the belt went round and round. I looked at the timer: 30 seconds in. By the time it was time to run, I was working up a little bit of a sweat and had pushed the arrow up to 3.5 - Woohoo! Now, what does it mean to run? Hmmm.... I pushed the up arrow some more until I saw the readout say 4.8. That feels pretty good. Wow, am I really running? Before I knew it, one minute was over and it was time to walk again. I was a little disappointed as I pushed the arrow down to a walking pace. That's it? That's all I have to do? Yes, even I can "run" for one friggin' minute, I thought.
For the next 25 minutes, I imagined myself as a runner. I visualized myself running outside on the street. I thought about the runners I had driven past and thought - that guy's nuts! I realized - that could be me! And I was thrilled about it. Truth be told, I was always envious of those loonies. I thought to myself, I'm actually going to be one of those whack jobs huffing and puffing along the road, while sane passersby observe from their air-conditioned vehicles. After years of hating running (I don't like all that jiggling!) I was finally doing it. Granted, one minute at a time, but isn't that how you have to start everything? One minute at a time? One step at a time? One word at a time? Isn't that how we all learned to talk, walk, read, or ride a bike? If only we had the patience with ourselves that we have with our children as we teach them these vital life skills. I decided then and there to be patient with myself. To be kind to myself. To bless myself with 30 minutes a day to walk and run. And a tortoise was born.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I love comments! The easiest way to comment is to choose the Name/URL option and just type in your name.