Running and I have this intense love/hate relationship that I just can't get over. This morning, while out on the road and about 8 minutes into my 25 minute jog, I began picturing myself as this living yin and yang symbol, with two opposite sides coming together to create one experience. In one moment, the run is smooth, easy, almost meditative. I suck in the early morning air and bask in its perfect temperature, relish the feeling of my muscles working, and fall into pace along with my music. When Lady Gaga comes on, watch out; the momentum and ease is even better. And I love the opportunity to enjoy the outdoors before the rush of the day begins. But, in another moment, the strain pushes the meditative calm away. My breath becomes haggard and I struggle to get my rhythm and pace back. My lungs expand and contract quickly, too quickly. My legs start to feel heavy. I wonder if I should stop. My mind tells me to stop, that I can't do this, that it's too much. Most of the time, I manage to slow down, find my pace and push these Debbie Downer thoughts away, telling myself I can do this, and I will. My own determination to compete with myself and to always improve overrides the negativity, and I get through the moment and deem myself successful.
Today, the third day of my 25 minute run, I did stop. And oh was I mad. Tuesday's run was great, fantastic. Sunday's was also a win. In fact, with each workout, I have been feeling myself improve. But today was a struggle. I was initially hesitant when I walked out my door and headed down the street, knowing last night was a late night to bed and this aggravating blister on the arch of my right foot had the potential to really annoy me for the duration of the run. Despite that, my warm-up walk was brisk, and the early part of my run was somewhat quicker paced and felt smooth, easy. Possibly too quick and too smooth and easy. The quick, heavy breathing set in sooner and the negative thoughts felt heavier, making it more difficult to find my pace. So I stopped and walked and wondered why on earth I put myself through this.
I have never really been a runner. In gym class...oh, excuse me, physical education, I always hated when it came time to do the dreaded Presidential Fitness Test, in which the class had to run a mile and try to meet a particular standard to show good, or even superior, physical and athletic health. I HATED running and now I had to run a mile?? Why am I being tortured?? Someone kill me, please. Why did I hate running so much? Because I simply wasn't good at it. My endurance was poor and so was my speed. I struggled. It was tedious. I couldn't do the whole thing without stopping to walk at some point or two or three. And watching those particularly athletic boys and girls finish their mile in 6 or 7 minutes with such ease really got me. I couldn't come anywhere near those numbers. I consequently felt like a failure. This is not an acceptable feeling for someone who largely strives for success and accomplishment. Therefore, I decided that not only did I hate running and but that running hated me.
This attitude followed me throughout school, into college and adulthood. In my last year of college, I began working out fairly consistently at the campus's gym, my friend and I trekking from our apartment building in the woods to the athletic center early in the morning. We immediately gravitated towards a stationary bike or elliptical, with barely any hesitation; I hardly ever stepped foot on a treadmill. I used the track or treadmill probably less than a handful of times during my entire college experience. After college, and after joining and paying for my own gym membership, I began to use the treadmill more often, wondering if I could get myself to like running, even love it. I mostly did intervals, and occasionally built up to some steady jogging. I was still slow, but I began to discover that rhythm, that meditative pacing that makes you want more. That would be when our dysfunctional I love you, I hate you relationship began.
Since then, running and I have been on an inconsistent roller coaster, with fast paced progress intertwined with broken down stalling. There have been months when my running has been consistent, progressive, and motivated. Following those months have been days of too cold or too tired mornings, lazy Saturdays and Sundays that call for time spent making and eating pancakes or waffles instead of getting to the gym. The routine and pressure I put on myself become too heavy to maintain and hold, so I put it all aside. And soon the muscles forget the routine and the strength to maintain that meditative pace, and I'm back to square one.
As much as I may hate running at the hardest times, I hate square one even more. So back to that question that hung over me as I took a walking break this morning: Why on earth do I put myself through this? Why bother? Because I want to. I want to prove to myself that I can do this. I'm not an overtly competitive person, but I'm highly competitive with myself. I have told myself for years that I can't run and run well, but I know that I can. I may need to be patient, I may need to allow myself to have those off days like this morning, and I may need to remember that my progress could be slower than I would like. But I want to do this. I want to have the craving, the desire to go for a run, tie on my sneakers, step out my door, and go. I don't want to have to drive to the gym, zone out on an elliptical machine and feel my feet go numb from the same exact movement over and over. I want that rush of accomplishment every time I run more than I did last time, or maybe a little faster than I did last time. I want to fall into that easy, smooth, meditative pace easier and for longer and longer periods of time, with Lady Gaga blasting in my ears, or not. I want this and I'm determined to have it.
To prevent burn out this time and falling into the I'm too tired or I'm too sore excuses, I'm using a well-tested program, which I've never done before. Couch to 5K has been a great training regimen which has really allowed me to progress at a reasonable pace and steadily increase my endurance and time. A few weeks ago, doing intervals of three or five minute runs was a struggle. Now I'm somehow up to 25 minutes at a time. Pretty freaking amazing, if I do say so myself. I'd highly recommend it for other new runners who want a challenge, to build up their progress, and would like a plan to follow. It doesn't require, or even suggest, daily runs, instead encouraging time for your body to recover and gain strength. Today was Week 7, Day 3 of the 9 week program. Saturday will be my next run. The next step will be Week 8, Day 1, which is a 28 minute run. I'm a little hesitant after falling back today, so I'm wondering if I should repeat the 25 minute interval before stepping up (repeating a week or day is also encouraged, if necessary). Whatever I decide, I know one thing: I will kick its (and my) ass.
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