Wednesday, March 14, 2012
What We're Doing: Running for Pride
So in December, during what was likely some Christmas mulled wine infused mania I decided I was going to start training for a half marathon.
I wanted to do this for a couple reasons, the first being that I'm turning 30, and I decided I should do something physically daunting every 10 years in honour of my birthday. For my 40th I'll do an Ironman...for my 20th I think I drank my weight in tequila. All impressive feats of strength and endurance.
The second reason...as PB almost immediately called... is that PB's ran a couple half marathons and I don't like that he's done something that I haven't. Yeah...that's how we are. I don't want there to be some discovery of some picture of PB at the Woody's Half Marathon finish line by a grandchild someday, to which PB says "yes, I ran half marathons, I was a runner...your grandmother...no, no, she was not a runner like me." We're crazy competitive. The kind of competitive that would make great reality tv. PB beat me in a 50 metre freestyle swim seven years ago and he still brings it up every 10 days or so. I maintain I sacrificed performance for style and was wearing the wrong swimsuit to do a flip turn in. I know I won't beat PB's half marathon time (please...he's built like an Ethiopian ultra marathoner and I'm built like an Italian grandmother) but I kinda don't care about the time. Its the finish that matters.
So I've been training. Not following any firm program, just trying to increase my mileage every week. So far I've only run on the treadmill. My longest run was 10 miles. 100 minutes - on the treadmill. Imagine the boredom. There's not enough jock jams in the world to get a person through that. Cotton Eye Joe is my "holy shit...forget this noise I'm quitting" song....it can get me through the worst miles. (PB told me his song is "One More Time" by Daft Punk...after which I asked if he took off his shirt and bit his bottom lip like he does when that song comes on in a bar...)
Last week was a tough week...even my three mile runs felt impossible and I didn't even bother attempting a long run. I was NOT in the mood. All I wanted to do jump about to a kickboxing video. I was beginning to think maybe I was over it, maybe I would just say forget it, find all pictures of PB at the finish line and burn them...problem solved.
But I got back on the treadmill on Monday, took a deep breath, promised myself a peanut butter and chocolate smoothie after, cranked some Steve Earl and went for it. Eight miles. They weren't fast miles by any means, but a mile is a mile. Its amazing how mood lifting a really good workout or run or hike can be. Its also a confidence boost. I know if I can do 8 miles alone, on a treadmill, I can crank out 13 when the adrenalin of a race* is pushing me along. (* I will not be racing - I will be attempting to finish...just for clarification)