"The trouble with jogging is that by the time you realize you are not in shape for it, it is too far to walk back." - Author unknown.
January 1, 2007
I must have drunk too much wine last night. My husband greeted me this morning with a chipper grin on his face and a pair of running shoes in his hands. I couldn’t imagine why he’d have running shoes. He despises running, rates it up there with getting teeth pulled with no Novocain.
Rubbing my eyes, I said to my sweetie, “Wow, I’m impressed. Decide to get in shape for the New Year. Good for you!”
Laughingly my husband handed me the running shoes. I looked at them, size 7.5 staring at me. “Cutie, I don’t think you’ll get very far wearing my sneakers.”
My husband’s charming grin quickly faded into a giddy smirk as he informed me that I had committed to run a 5k with my sister in law. “What?” I said bewildered, “You know I don’t make New Year’s resolutions.“ It’s true. I don’t normally make New Year’s resolutions, mostly because I never seem to follow through with them. I’m still trying to shed the 10 lbs that I vowed to loose from the last resolution I made, in 1998.
But I was determined to wipe the snide look off his face; I sat up and said, “5k, no problem. I ran cross country in high school. I can totally run a 5k.”
The expression on my husband’s face quickly washed away. But instead of batting a look of unconditional support or motivation at me, he had the appearance of a school age boy heckling at other kids on the playground. He was laughing so hard that he had tears welling up in his eyes. Through his fit of laughter I was barely able to make out him saying, “Yea, that was 10 years ago! Happy trotting!” And he walked out of the room leaving behind the echoes of his amusement.
I laced up my running shoes and headed out the door settled on the fact that not only did I make an asinine resolution, but now I had something to prove. I thought I’d start out nice and easy and jog a leisurely 1.5 miles. I didn’t want to push it too much my first day.
As I rounded the first bend on my road, the frigid air made it feel like someone had lit a match in my lungs. This wasn’t a positive sign. And I was convinced that my dear supportive husband tampered with my sneakers and lined them with lead. I felt like I had bricks tied to my ankles. My optimism was quickly vaporized. There’s always tomorrow.
Distance: ¼ mile.
February 8, 2007
Ok, so tomorrow came later rather than sooner. I haven’t set out on an official run since my first outing. I needed sufficient time to investigate my sneakers. Unfortunately there were no signs that they were tampered with. That and it took nearly two weeks for my calves to recover from my last excruciating run. But I’ve been chasing after two toddlers and an infant, which should definitely count as a workout.
Again, I didn’t want to over do it, so I set a more realistic goal this time. I thought a mile should suffice just fine. I even had my I Pod set with a play list that was sure to keep me moving. Oh, and this time I thought I’d stick inside the comfort of my warm home. After all it’s winter in New England.
I set up movie for the boys to watch while I hit the treadmill. I can see two heads in font of me fixed on the screen before them. “This should definitely buy me enough time to run a mile,” I thought.
Thirty-three seconds into my run and it started, “Mom, can you fix Darth Vader’s mask? It keeps coming off.”
Distance: 1 mile (with three pit stops to fix Darth Vader’s mask)