I went running tonight even though it was raining and I didn't want to because, well, these things have to get done. The running schedule suggests you run 3-5 times a week and it took me a couple weeks to figure out they really mean it. Every week the running gets a little harder. If I only run three times in a week, the next week I still feel like I'm dying. If I run four or five times, the next week I usually feel like I can survive it. It's hard, sweaty work but I'll get through it with a nod and a "Yep. This is not beyond my abilities". I'm already going more'n two miles each time. :D I'm looking forward to the day when I can do a 10k and just take it in stride (so to speak).
This week's been an odd running week. It's been a string of bad runs but at the same time, I've made some revelations about running and how the body moves. Things I learned in karate about connection and power are starting to translate over and that's pretty cool. I've never been a runner so every couple of weeks I make some shocking realization about something that's probably completely obvious to anyone who didn't spend her first nine years convinced she had asthma (Thanks Mom!). Dumb things like, if I extend my leg out behind me, almost straightening it, I can continue to push off the ground in a powerful thrust that's devoted to moving along the ground, instead of bouncing along with my little steps. This, I learned Wednesday. And did you know if I take deep, rapid breaths the oxygen can fuse into my blood and be carried to the various parts of my body? Omg. ^_~
The runs -have- been rough though. I haven't felt any significant improvement and even though I can see I've taken weight off my face and I'm told my legs are leaner, my waist line is actually an inch bigger than it was a couple of months ago when I first started... Sure, I can run three times as far as I did when I first started and I do so regularly without batting an eye, but... It's hard to explain. I'm not lithe and gazelle like so when I'm feeling down, it feels like I haven't made any worthwhile improvement at all... And I've felt down most of the week. My friend Fay said the nicest, nicest thing to me though. "See, I already know you're a runner. Ain't nobody who tries as hard as you do who isn't a runner. Now you just gotta wait for -you- to realize you're a runner too." It was sweet, got me all sniffly.
But today I discovered I have an Achille's Left Foot. My foot has barely been healed from its stress fracture / whatever for two weeks now and I went out running in the rain today. Adam lent me his water resistant PT pants and I had my little thermal shirt and a couple layers, and an mp3 player loaded up with new songs so I felt prepared for anything. Halfway through the run I tripped over a rock, stumbled, and when I recovered my footing and attempted to carry on my left ankle spoke up.
"Uh, -really-?!" It said. "We're gonna -keep- running?"
It wasn't really a sharp pain or anything that would make me stop and whimper, it was just a sort of dull, stiff feeling of discomfort telling me that all is not right in the land of my ankle. I slowed to a walk for a minute to see if it would go away, ran for another minute or so, then slowed again to have some firm words with it. It said it was tired and wanted to go home, I said I didn't want to be fat and, ergo, had to run. We compromised by running another 5 minutes home and then laying on the floor and whining about it to Adam. Even now it doesn't really hurt it just... feels weird. A little stiff and uncomfortable, and a dull vague pain. So clearly, tomorrow calls for a hot bath and extorting a foot rub out of my boyfriend.
Meanwhile, would anyone care to send me a team of scantily clad men to carry me about my errands?
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