The plight of the heat-sensitive runner

There's a scene in "Interview with the Vampire" when a little female vampire, played by a very young Kirsten Dunst, and another lady vampire are locked in a prison cell with an open roof, embracing each other and screaming as the sun slowly rises and burns them alive. This is pretty much an accurate portrait of my sister and I in summer.

I blame my mom. When she was 20 and six months preggers with me, she went on a road trip to Florida with my dad where she got the worst sunburn of her life. My theory is that I got cooked in her tummy like a little baked potato, rendering me utterly defenseless against a hot and humid summer day.

One side effect of my heat-sensitivity is fainting. Yep, folks, I am a fainter. How cool am I ...
Three of the most embarrassing examples:
1. Fourth grade. No air conditioning in the building. Muggy. Girls bathroom stall, flanked by two peers in adjoining stalls and 10 others waiting in line for their turn. As I locked the stall, I knew it was coming on. The window started to close. (I have two varieties of fainting: the instant total blackout; and "the window," when my vision goes black around the periphery, slowing closing until I pass out.) I hit the floor, my legs sticking under the stall door into my friend Donna's personal space. I wake up to my teacher outside the door. "Amanda? Are you all right?" Thank god my pants were still on.

2. Balcony. Catholic Church. Fifth grade. Uncomfortable dress. No air conditioning. Ceiling fans slowly -- very slowly -- turning far, far above. Stuffy. People singing hymns all around. The window started to close. As I leaned forward into my mom's hymnal, she said, "Amanda!" sort of in disbelief, but also concern. Her tone somehow snapped me out of it. Didn't faint. But people were staring. Got me out of communion, though.

3. Boyfriend's house. Hot as hell in his basement room. Like, 85 degrees. I get up to use the bathroom, which for some reason was about 15 degrees cooler. The temperature difference hit my overheated head like a hammer. No window. Just a blackout. The next thing I remember is my boyfriend knocking at the door asking if I was OK. "That was quite a crash," he said. I came to laying halfway inside the shower stall, a goose egg on my head and a black bruise beginning to form on my knee.

Long story short, folks, I shut down in heat. I feel like I can't breathe. I whine a lot. Even walking from the car to an air-conditioned building feels completely oppressive. Feels like it takes a million years to get to the door.

Which brings us to this morning. 72 degrees at 7:30 a.m. Sun barely rising above the trees. But the humidity was 60 percent. Dewpoint 57 degrees. Beyond my threshold. Just BEYOND it.

But, I thought, if I can't get a run in at 7:30 in the morning, then when can I? When will it be any cooler than this? So I had to go.

I felt like I was wearing a suit of armor. I couldn't breathe good. After 10 minutes I was walking. Then at 15 minutes, I walked again. Then at 20, more walking. It was a horrid 37 minutes.

After a cool shower, I didn't quite get "the window," but there were some black speckles in my vision. And now I have my "heat headache." It's a dull ache in my forehead after I've been "exposed" to the summer elements that are beyond my coping ability.

So, I ask you, what is a heat-sensitive runner to do in summer? It's only June 8! What will happen to me in August? I'm still a toddler runner. I've only been running four months, and that streak has been broken up by a knee injury and an illness, both of which had me benched for a couple of weeks apiece. I'm still learning. Even on cool days, I'm new enough that it's a toss up whether the run will go well or not. So needless to say, the added weather variable is messing with my head.

Any other runners out there who wither in sunlight? What do you folks do in summer? I'm wondering if I will just have to accept a running/walking regiment for the bulk of the season.

Ideas:
1. Renting an air-conditioned space suit.
2. Renting an oxygen tank, like for scuba diving, and dragging it along behind me in a red wagon.
3. Winning the lottery and building a massive indoor track with walls that change scenery.

Other ideas?

Things my dog thinks when she runs

... a sequel to what I think about when I run.

After the last disaster of a run when I brought my dog along with me, I said, "Never again!" But as with most mistakes I've made in my life, I forget the consequences and am ever doomed to repeat them.

After "Sunday Morning" and three cups of coffee, I was ready to go. So was Squishy, it seemed. So we headed off into the humid, sunless morning along my normal route to Tourtellotte.

Here is the progression of my dog's thought pattern there and back. (As far as I can tell, anyway. I don't speak dog.)

Minute 2: Jeez, my owner is really slow. I'd better pull her along so she feels like she's actually accomplishing something. Lazy human.

Minute 5: Squirrel! (Owner yanked onto a lawn, trying to stay on her feet and correct my course.)

Minute 6: Hang on a minute. I want to sniff this tree, for like, 30 seconds. ... Hey, quit pulling my leash! I'll be done when I'm done!

Minute 7: This looks like a good place to do my bidness. ... Oh, well gee, I'm so sorry you had to stop jogging at your very slow pace, owner, so that I can relieve myself. It's the least you can do, considering I've been doing more than half the work this whole time. ... Now pick it up and carry it with you. You don't want these homeowners to think I'm THAT kind of dog, do you?

Minutes 10, 10.5, 11 and 11.5: Woah, these are new trees. I've never sniffed these trees. These would be excellent trees to mark. Whoever this St. Bernard, chow and ... dalmation! Wow, a dalmation! ... Anyway, whoever they are, if they come back, they should know that these are my trees now.

Minute 12: Squirrel! (See the minute 5 parenthetical.)

Minute 14: Squirrel! (Above.)

Minute 17: Well, I mean, I guess she's not that slow. Why does she still want to run? Where is she running to? Walks are so much more pleasant. Stupid human.

Minute 22: Is that rain? Are we pretty far from home and it's raining? This tree would be a good place to hide under and refuse to move from.

Minute 25: Well I never! Reducing my leash lead to, what, two feet? Is she really going to drag me all the way home? In the rain?

Minute 30: I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm tired. It's raining. I'm tired.

Minute 33: Did she really just call me that? Is she really that irritated when I'm the one suffering here?

Minute 35: Oh, home. Thank god. Water. Water. Water. ... At least she's learned her lesson. I'm sure tomorrow morning, when she puts on those pink running shoes, we'll just go for a walk. That must be what she meant when she said, "You are the absolute worst, and I will never, ever take you running again. Ruiner of fitness! Selfish, lazy dog! THE WORST!"
But then, I don't speak human.

Love this Nike running music video

I saw this a few weeks ago late at night, and I loved it. But I haven't seen it since. It's a really long Nike commercial/music video.

And so it begins ...

On Saturday I began my “All Natural 30-Day Food Experiment” and went grocery shopping. I tend to spend very little time at the grocery store because many of my meals are eaten out.

I spent more than an hour at hilltop HyVee and actually had a pretty good time with it. Most of my time was spent in produce and at the meat counter. I did spend extra time reading labels in the other aisles making sure the ingredients on everything I was putting in the cart were actual foods. It was fun remembering tips from Rachael Ray about the “trinity” -- celery, onion and carrot -- and to always have a box of chicken stock on hand, and don’t forget the garlic. Got to have garlic.

Saturday and today I began the preparation and, also, the eating, which is fun. I can’t list very many changes to how I feel so far. For one, it’s very early in the process. And two, I’m really sick. On Friday a sinus and tonsil infection set in, and I’m barely sleeping. So I feel like a giant ball of crap regardless of food.

But there have been a couple of surprises so far. I’ve always been one to scoff at words such as “stone-ground whole wheat,” but I wanted to be able to eat a little bread, so I bought a loaf. It’s actually delicious! And because this food experiment is NOT about calorie-counting, but rather about eating natural foods that my body knows what to do with, I had some toast with butter and strawberry jam for Sunday morning breakfast, and it was so good. And unlike a bagel or Wonder Bread (which was my go-to before) or a sugary cereal, the whole wheat kept me fuller longer.

This morning I made up a marinade of Blue Moon beer, fresh garlic, black pepper, lemon zest and lemon juice. I’ve got chicken breasts marinating and will grill them up tonight.

I also made my own salad dressing! Strawberries, EVOO, vinegar, honey, lemon zest and the juice of one lemon (squeezed cut-side up to make sure the seeds don’t go into the blender - thanks, Rach!). I’m going to toss it with arugula and spinach with blackberries and slivered almonds.

Not sure how long all of this will stay fun. Maybe longer than I expect. Rachael Ray seems to have fun with it every day! Here’s hopin’.

Broken focus is not my bag

Addendum: Since writing this on Saturday, I had my first five-mile run tonight!!! (Sunday.) I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Pagliai's for providing tonight's fuel; the inclement weather for the cool clouds to look, as well as the chilly breeze; and my will power, for forgoing the beer with dinner, even though everyone else was having some, and I reallyreally wanted some, too. Woo hoo!

And now back to your regularly scheduled blog entry ...

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Whatever parts of my body are responsible for running endurance, I would just like to say thank you very, very much. You have been neglected, and yet, you came through like a champ this afternoon. You're the best; I'm the worst.

...

Any journalist will tell you that multi-tasking is essential to your success. You produce about two stories per day, plus briefs, plus plan future stories, plus coordinate photography, plus answer phones, plus answer boatloads of emails, plus blog, plus Facebook. There are numerous pluses I'm missing, but I think you get it.

I can and do multi-task. I churn out the copy like you wouldn't believe. Having said that, I don't deal well with plan changes, something my editors have noticed in the past. I'm sometimes told, "Well, it's the news, you have to be flexible." Some of us are fine with switching focuses mid-story and doing whatever happens to be more urgent. I don't really function well that way. The way I get around that in a newsroom is to be extremely fast. I sometimes wonder if I developed such swift writing skills simply so that I can finish an entire something before being asked to move onto something else.

But there are stories that don't allow for this model I've adopted. This week, I had a story fall into my lap that required a lot of time, multiple days, actually, of interviews and research. One of those stories where you have to get folks to "open the books," as we say, to get precise figures. And as I'm learning more and more on my newish beat (education), many stories require an added layer of language interpretation. Do you know what a "cluster model" is? How about PLCs? A CoGAT? Know what that is? Yeah, me either until this week. And I've got to learn it and break it down in order for my readers to understand the story I'm writing.

Long story short, with a need to stay focused on finishing the piece, I did little else. Every morning, I got to the office as early as possible to continue writing and plan that day's interviews. And it wasn't the kind of week where you squirrel away time to plan or talk with your neighbor or answer email. I spent entire shifts on the phone, writing, making more calls, writing some more.

When I got home, I just wanted a glass of wine and to watch TV and not think about it.

I know I said long story short before, but this time I really mean it ... Long story short, I had not run since Sunday. Five days of no running. At first, like say around Tuesday, it felt weird. Like I was itching to get out there. But then, by Thursday, and this scared me, it felt normal, like one day of not running leading to the next, with as many excuses as you can manage as to why it wasn't a good day. ...Tension headache, night assignment for work, had a beer with dinner, too cold, raining ... Raining! Yep, that was my Friday night excuse. Can you believe that? After last weekend I made such a huge deal about how awesome it is to run in the rain?

Anyway, I spent the gorgeous sunny day doing yard work and cleaning the house, which actually relaxes me, as sad as that is, and then I put on my new little running capris and my trusty Nikes and I hit the pavement. For the most part, it went really great. Just an easy, 32-minute run. It went so well for the first half, I felt like Ridiculously Photogenic Guy. The kind of run when you actually take the time to look around at stuff, smell the lilacs, smile at kids playing outside.

But then my hips started to get a little achy around minute 20. I keep telling myself that if I lost more weight around my hips, running would get so much easier.

Ha ... that brings me to one of the most-asked questions, or statements, rather, that I've been getting since I started running: "Wow, running burns so many calories. It must be great for weight-loss." That's when I have to say, "Actually, I think I'm the first runner in the history of running to PUT ON weight after starting to run."

I'm not kidding. A bit of it is muscle, and it's not all that much weight. But seriously, I am STARVING after a long run, and I tend to gravitate towards the carbs. Snyder's pretzel nuggets are my thing these days. OBSESSED. And I was sort of OK with that at first. I wanted to really focus on learning to run and building endurance and getting that in place first. And then I thought I'd bring the nutrition back into the mix.

So that's sort of the plan now. That and running at LEAST five days next week and the week after because Girls on the Run 5K is on the 28th, and my only goal is to finish in less than 40 minutes without incident -- no walking, no injury. Just an easygoing 35-minute jog around Sibley.

So if that little widget to the right over there goes more than a day without a new run recorded, post a snide comment about my lack of stick-to-it-iveness, wouldya? I've got to stay focused.

Rainy runs are my new favorite

Just a quick little post to advise my fellow newbie runners to get out there while you can today! This morning's run in the rain was amaaaaaaaazing. The chilly, wet air was great for the lungs and cooled down my skin. It was awesome!

Felt so good that I was SURE I'd finally hit five miles today. But, alas, I was 1/2 mile short. Just kills me! Will I never hit five? Never ever? It poses quite a dilemma, because I told myself that if I hit five, I could make the Dairy Freeze in Fairmont my very first stop today while I'm home for Easter weekend. ... I mean, technically, I never said I couldn't round up, right?

Anyway, get out there if you can. Running in the rain is my new favorite. Plus, you kind of look like a badass to people driving by, like you're so committed to your sport that you're willing to get soaked for it. ...Or maybe that's just what I was thinking. : )

P.S. Manholes covers are slippery, so beware. That is all.

10Kato? What have I done ...

Let me preface this post with a little anecdote ...
The average person probably does not realize this, but there is a slight incline in elevation from my house on North Broad Street all the way to Tourtellotte. The average runner probably doesn't realize this either, because the average runner is in much better shape than I am. To them, a hill is Main Street. A hill is Madison Avenue.

I didn't realize, when I first started running, why it seemed so much more difficult to run north along that stretch than it was coming back the other way on Fourth or Fifth. I'd round that corner, and in a minute or so, I'd feel like I was flying. Of course, never too quick on the uptake of these things, I realized a couple of runs later that, coming back, I was running slightly down hill, which is why it felt so much easier. Reminds of me of something a friend told me once that has made me laugh every time I think of it: "I thought I experienced Runner's High once. Turns out, I was just running down hill." Funny, but straight-up for reals, y'all. A down-hill run is like being picked up by an angel and carried. It's positively marvelous.

If my struggle with the slightest of inclines on Broad didn't drive home this point, allow me to make this clear: I am a flat-terrain runner. When I see a hill, I run the other way. I even avoid running up to Fifth from my house because there's a hill in the way of getting there. And on the rare occasion I do tackle one, I run so very slowly on the way up that, at any given moment, gravity might actually make me teeter backward.

This brings us to yesterday's phone call ...

It was like deja-vu when I listened to my messages. Last year, about this time, I was in the middle of my public "Fight to be Fit" weight-loss battle, about 40 pounds lost. And Karen Christy of VINE Faith in Action called to see if I would run the 10Kato to help raise awareness for the event. Christy remembers exactly what I said, and so do I: "I'm not a runner. I can't run. There's just no way." I did, however, sign up to walk the two-mile portion of the event on what turned out to be an extremely humid Memorial Day morning.

So yesterday, when I spoke with Christy, and she reminded me of that call, I had one of those moments when I thought, "Wow, I'm totally a runner now. A year later. How cool!" And after a Google search helping my math-deficient brain realize that 10Ks = 6.2 miles, I realized that I really am not far from that goal. I'm at about 4 1/2 miles right now, and with two months left to train, I could probably hit 6.2 miles by Memorial Day.

So I said I would definitely sign up for the 10Kato, and I thanked her for thinking of me. ... And then, as I was about to hang up the phone, I had an afterthought. "Hey, Karen, there aren't any major hills involved in the 10Kato, are there?"
"Just Glenwood," she said.

Just Glenwood, she says. Just Glenwood. Just two miles of a windy, steady, steep, uphill climb.

Panic. Terror. Disbelief. Regreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet.

Let me put this into perspective ... my former colleague, Alex Voigt, who is about 150 pounds of pure muscle, ran the 10Kato last year with about a 40-minute finish time. He came in 10th. (How in the world can someone maintain a 7-minute mile pace up a friggin' hill?)
Me, on the other hand, well, I ran 4.3 miles this morning, and you know how long it took me? 55 minutes. Two miles less than Alex, and 15 minutes longer. Add a two-mile hill IN ADDITION to this morning's flat-terrain run, and you would have found me somewhere in the middle of the incline, passed out, cramped up, dehydrated, making gurgling sounds.

So let me just state this right off the bat: I will be walking up Glenwood. That's just plain fact right there. I probably could walk it faster than I could run it, anyway. And then I will run the rest of the race. It's important to know one's limitations, and mine begin at the base of that hill.

So if you're signed up to run in one of the longest-standing and popular races in our area -- the challenging 10Kato -- I look forward to seeing you run right on past me. And mom, I'd appreciate it if you could maybe just follow me along in your car to scoop me up if I actually do start teetering back down Glenwood Avenue.

The sucky flipside of the running coin

Not everyday is an "accidental 5K." I admit, I've had a pretty good streak of sunshiney, happy, successful runs. But some days, like today, are horrible.

First, let me get all the excuses out of the way:
I drank wine last night; that must be why my muscles felt so weak.
I didn't eat breakfast beforehand.
I didn't drink coffee beforehand.
I'm not feeling that well.
It must be the gloomy weather; it's not very motivating.
It's this damn wind. What kind of stupid fly-over country is windy at 7 in the morning? I hate the prairie! Hate it!

It's possible, I suppose, that all of those things had a hand in how bad my run went this morning, but honestly, some days just go badly. I've been warned by my running friends that there will be times when you just have to cash it in and go home. That something with your body just isn't having it, and it won't do any good to torture yourself. Just listen to your body and go home.

I know that. I do. But when you're in the middle of one of those runs, you can't help but say terrible things to yourself. You feel weak, and you tell yourself that you're weak.

This morning, within the first five minutes I knew it was going to be bad, so I decided to stick close to home. My legs felt heavy and fatigued. My lungs were a little raw. Every step was an effort. I kept trying to get myself to the 15-minute mark which is when my muscles warm up and I usually start to relax into the routine of running. Most days, when you hit 15 to 20 minutes, it almost feels easier to keep running than it would be to stop. It's a weird feeling.

Not today. I hit minute 20, and I absolutely had to walk. And when that happens, it's a total mental kick to the crotch and only makes the rest of the run worse because your head/heart feels defeated. You say awful things to yourself and actually believe them. Crazy things. "Maybe you can't do this. Maybe the last few weeks are a fluke. Maybe your body just didn't know what was going on, like it was in shock or something, and now it knows what you're up to and it's not having it. Maybe 4.3 miles is the longest distance you'll ever run. Maybe running is something you just can't do anymore. Maybe you should just give up and go home."

I walked for 90 seconds and then pushed through the rest of the 3-mile run. Honestly, I should have just gone home. When I did get there, and relaxed for a few minutes with a cup of coffee, I of course realized how silly all of those negative statements are. I've proven I can do this.

But it's just nutty to me how volatile running can be. You never know how your body will respond until you're in the thick of it. It's as frustrating when it goes badly as it is exciting when it goes well.

I guess the only thing to do is try again tomorrow.

Things I think about when I run

Sometimes I wonder if all runners think the same crazy things I do. Or maybe it’s just newbie runners who haven’t quite acclimated, mentally or physically, to jogging for miles.
Either way, here’s my thought progression during a recent run, which is actually fairly typical, as sad as that may be ...

Minute one: You forget this every day, so just remember: slow down. This isn’t a race. And don’t forget that the first 12 minutes are the hardest before your muscles get warmed up.

Minute 10: Jeez. This sucks. Why do you forget how bad this sucks after every single run? Runners are masochists. MASOCHISTS.

Minute 15: OK. Not so bad.

Minute 20: Heck, I could do this all day!

Minute 24: Well, maybe not all day ...

Minute 27: You really had to have that third cup of coffee?

Minute 28: Remember hearing about marathon runners who pee their pants in the middle of a race? That used to horrify me. I kind of get it now.

Minute 31: Did you really just blow your nose into your T-shirt? Who have you become?

Minute 35: Come on, Rhianna, get me through this.

Minute 37: Oh nana, what’s my name, oh nana, what’s my naaame ...

Minute 40: Maybe if you look straight down to the pavement right in front of you, you’ll be surprised and excited when you look up and see you're home.

Minute 42: Crap, no clean spots left on your sleeves to blow again.

Minute 45: Oh .... my .... gaawwwwwwwd ... this must end!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Minute 47: Oh, thank goodness. There it is. Oh, oh. Hoooome!!!!

Minute 50: The living room floor ... looks like a great place to lay down. You're never doing that again. That’s just ridiculous. Who does that? Who purposefully drags their butt around downtown for four miles? So stupid. Gawd. Dumb. You’re the dumbest.

Minute 60: Well, where should we run tomorrow ... go for five miles? Personal best? Why not.

I accidentally ran a 5K

A funny thing happened yesterday morning ... I unwittingly ran a 5K. As I age, I tend to do more and more things unwittingly, but at least in this case, the surprise was a welcomed one.

For some reason I had it in my head that a 5K was 3.3 miles. So I had been slowly trying to increase my runs to reach that benchmark in time for the Girls on the Run 5K. I am a part of a team of former Baker's Square co-workers called Team P.I.E.S. (Pep in Every Step! ... a name thought up on the spot by a very creative Gina Weber)

Until a few days ago, I'd been running every morning at Sibley Park. I had started this running campaign at the track at the Y, as you may recall, circling and circling, without much to look at it. I kept going back there because I had this mental block about running. I had never done it before, and as such, it was just so out of my comfort zone, and so in my silly little mind, I had a terrible feeling that I could only run on the track. That if I took it to any other environment, I wouldn't be able to do it. I know, it's weird.

So my next step out of that comfort zone was Sibley Park, because it's essentially just a larger track -- one big circle around the park. And while it's technically outside, which helps get me used to running in wind and rain and on pavement, my car is within close walking distance if an injury were to occur, or just a bad running day where I'd need to quit.

The Sibley runs went well. I mapped the distance with my car, about .8 miles around once. And I'd circle it three times, which took me almost exactly 30 minutes. But after a few times, I was getting bored. And that can make for a bad run. I had to stop and walk a couple of times. So it was time to move on.

A few days ago, I learned about the Daily Mile, which is an AWESOME site where runners can create an account for free, create maps of their runs around Mankato neighborhoods (or wherever you live), and it calculates the distance. You can save those maps, and each day, you log your running distance and time, and it keeps track of those miles over time. So by year's end, you can say, "Wow! I ran 1,000 miles this year!" Super neat.

So I created a running route down to Tourtellotte Park from my house, over to Fourth and Fifth, and then back, and it was my first successful 2.6 mile run that wasn't in a circle. Haha. Yesterday, I altered the route to be about 3.1 miles, which took me a loooong time. 41 minutes, which is a 13-minute mile. Geeeez, so slow. But I did it!

When I got to work, I looked up the route for the Girls on the Run 5K, and I glanced to the left to see the distance of the race: 3.1 miles. And I realized I was already there! It was pretty neat. I was excited.

So now that I know I'm ready for the race about 5 weeks in advance, my goal now is to keep increasing distance, and then I will work on speed. I'm hoping to get up to about 4 miles, which eventually, I hope will take me 40 minutes each day. Maybe someday I'll work toward a 10K or something, just for fun, but honestly, just the act running each day is all I wanted to accomplish when I started this.

The coolest feeling at this point, especially after yesterday, is realizing that running is something that I DO now, not something that I'm trying to do. I like it. I like it a lot.

30 solid minutes of running ... but does it count?

Today was pretty major. I felt like I had something to prove, which we'll get to in a minute. All alone at about 7 a.m. on the track at the Y, I cranked up some LMFAO and ran like a slight breeze. But a steady breeze! I ran for a solid 30 minutes, which I estimate was about 2 1/2 miles.

I'm excited. I mean, sort of. I would be more excited had I not ran outside for the first time the other day ...

My dog was itching for a walk. And I hadn't been able to get to the gym that day. So I thought I would try my first outdoor run with a fat dog with ADD. The experience couldn't have been more defeating. My pockets were full of poopy bags, tissues, my phone and an mp3. I had my dog's leash in one hand, and two blocks later, a bag of her poo in the other hand. Then there were the distractions. Every tree or hydrant or bush or pile of leaves, I had to yank fat dog along. Every intersection felt like it had a car waiting for me, or me waiting for them. There were walkers and strollers and other dogs to meander around. And running against the wind, that was a lot of fun. And then there was the terrain itself. I swear, it looked flat to me. I was running on North Broad near Tourtellotte and over on 4th, and for whatever reason, running on sidewalk felt twice as hard. The whole outdoor running experience: twice as hard. So I got maybe one solid 10-minute run in, and then the rest was six- or seven-minute runs with lots of walking and dog-yanking in between.

This made me sad. I HATE TO FAIL. I also hate to not be able to do something with relative ease or speed.

So this morning, I retreated to my familiar, smooth, flat, calm, distraction-free track at the Y, feeling, like I said, as if I had something to prove. I could have kissed the track, it went so well. Thirty minutes was no walk in the park, especially not the last eight minutes or so. But it was so much easier than outside.

But knowing that actual runners do this outside, that that's where you're supposed to be a runner, I feel like my 30 has an asterisk or something. Like it's still not for real yet. At some point, I've got to take my game to the streets, players. And now there's this huge mental block in the way.

Maybe I should just get some more practice in at the Y and then run shorter distances outside.
Thoughts?

I ran a mile, and I liked it

What nobody ever tells you when you're considering a couch-to-5K program is how FAST your body adapts to running. It's not their fault. They can't get a word in edgewise when newbie runners are coughing and wheezing and complaining about how badly their frickin' lungs burn and how stupid it was to attempt to run in the first place.

Since I started running less than two weeks ago, about a dozen people I've talked to about this -- some of whom are in very good shape -- have said almost the exact same thing: "I just don't like to run." They do other things, like yoga or speed walking or team sports. I used to say that exact same thing. There are so many other exercises and machines you can use. So why do something you hate?

I've really been trying NOT to become one of those people who say, "But, seriously, if you just try it -- if you just get through that first week or two of misery -- you'll love it. It'll be like a drug." But it's so hard! When you find something you enjoy, you want EVERYONE to do it, too.

I had a pretty huge breakthrough on day 8 or 9 of the couch-to-5K program this week. I ran a mile. It was the first mile I had ever ran in my life. And it felt amazing. This week consisted of running two minutes, walking one minute, and repeating that pattern 10 times. But at the end of each session, I did this thing where I thought, "Just run for as long as you can without stopping. Just to see how long you can go." The first day it was five minutes without stopping. The second it was 8 minutes, 20 seconds. And the third, I went for it, and I ran a mile. Now, granted, it was the slowest mile in the history of running-miles: 13 minutes, 03 seconds. But we are talking about someone who, just eight days prior, had not run in 15 years. In just eight days my body adjusted that much. It's pretty incredible to think about that, to think about what we are capable of.

I hate this expression, but it so very much applies here that I have to say it: If I can do it, anyone can do it. So, please, do it! It'll make you feel so good about yourself!

I plan to run the Girls on the Run 5k on April 28. That will give me plenty of time to prepare. My only big roadblock now is my knee pain. I've been advised by friends to stick with the program and stop running those extra minutes after each session because my knees get so stiff and achy a few hours after running that it's worrying me a little bit. Maybe if I dial it back, and just stick to what I'm supposed to do, it won't be so bad. It's a bit frustrating, though, because when your lungs and heart are totally into running, you really wish the rest of your body would cooperate.

But I guess I've got more than two months to get the knees on board, too.

Today, I shall run four minutes, walk one minute, and repeat six times. And I promise not to run an extra mile afterward. : )))) Of all the promises I never thought I'd have to make ... haha.

Finally flipping the bird at Mr. Jones

We'll call him Mr. Jones (so I won't get sued). I heard tell of him from my dad and my dad's siblings. They all had him for gym class when they were in middle school. My dad was a naughty kid. So he'd had an altercation or two with Mr. Jones, which I couldn't even imagine. When nobody in my sixth-grade gym class was doing anything to piss him off, he still looked so severe. Never smiled. Stood shoulders back, arms crossed. Tight blue shorts made of unidentifiable fabric, most likely produced in the '70s or '80s. White leg hair from mid-thigh to ankle. White arm hair, thicker than what seemed normal to a 12-year-old. White head hair (what was left of it). No trace of a smile or even smile lines that might indicate he actually did show his teeth once in a while at home. Plenty of frown lines, though. So the idea of anger in those eyes directed right at my dad, inches from his face, made me keep as quiet as a Sunday morning in January.

I had just moved to Fairmont from K.I. Sawyer Air Force Base in the U.P. of Michigan. I had no friends, and it was my first year of middle school. So the last thing I needed was another reason to feel out of place and behind my fellow classmates. First-period gym class with Mr. Jones was that extra reason. It was a few months after my parents' divorce. I had put on weight. I was out of shape. I'd never run before, except for short bursts the way kids do. And here stood this cold statue of a man barking at me and my classmates in military style to run eight laps or 10 laps or however many he felt like that day.

I was always near the back of the pack. It wasn't unusual for me to get lapped by the fastest boy in the class. But still I remember how grateful I was that two or three girls were actually slower, somehow, than I was so that I wouldn't be dead last.

Every time I past Mr. Jones during each lap, a bit of anxiety would creep in. Sometimes he'd shout things. "Pick it up! Pick it up!" And when one of my tactics on long runs was to put tissues on the stage at the edge of the gym and pretend to have a cold, he was onto me in a heartbeat. "Carry that Kleenex with you, Dyslin! Don't stop!"

Until now, this is the only experience I ever had running. And every single time I have circled the track at the Y this week, having begun my couch to 5K, I have imagined Mr. Jones standing there, arms crossed, watching every unsteady stride. The funny thing is, though, the negative connotation I have with the actual act of running has started to go away. I wonder if it's because I'm choosing to be there, and I feel like it's for an actual purpose. When you're 12, there seems to be no reason at all to be asked to run half a mile in front of your peers, wearing hideous red shorts and doing everything you can to hide your pit stains. It just seems like a really mean social experiment, and you start to imagine ways to make Mr. Jones disappear without anyone tracing the crime back to you.

Hopefully, when I'm ready to move this running campaign outside and hit the streets, the old man won't be in my thoughts at all. Or maybe if he is, I'll just flip him the hand gesture that my dad was brave enough to do when he was just a kid.

I'm totally a runner now

OK, I just lied. : ) Technically, no, I cannot call myself a runner, as in one who runs for lengths of time. I could maybe call myself a runnette, as in one who runs for shorts of time.

A couple of posts ago I said I was going to try my hand at running, even though I swore up and down I never ever would. Because it's hard. And because my memories of sixth-grade gym class are all bad. And that's literally the last time I ran for any solid length of time.

But then a pal, Shane Frederick, forwarded me a link to the Runners World version of a couch to 5K program, and it looked manageable. It starts with walking for two minutes, running for 1, and then repeating that combo ten times. And that's the entire first week. And to make it easier, every other day the first week is just walking. It seemed like everyone could do that. Everyone!

So I was all, "I've got this." Because, if you know me even remotely well, you know I'm the absolute worst kind of human being: the kind who, in their own mind, is the expert on everything and can do absolutely everything. My only redeeming quality is that, when I make the attempt at whatever it is and then fail miserably, I become humble awfully quick. I don't try to save face in an annoyingly arrogant way. I just bow my head and apologize to my audience.

Today, this very scene played out as I tackled day one of my couch to 5K. My first running lap and a half around the track at the Y, I was all, "What's so hard about this? Excuse me, walkers, I'm on your left," with ponytail swinging in a triumphant wave as I passed with gusto.

By minute 20 of the program: (I approach a couple walking side by side, about to break into a wobbly, unsteady jog) "I'm so sorry. Can I get by? My first day of a stupid couch to 5K. (huff, puff) I'm really bad at this! I haven't run since the sixth grade! (huff, puff)" The couple half-smiles, thinking, "Can't she move this trainwreck outside?"

To make matters worse, an old high school classmate entered the track to walk. She probably flashed back to middle school, too, and thought, "She hasn't changed much."

All in all, a humbling experience. I am conditioned to do an easy 60 minutes on the elliptical or in a Step aerobics class. But running is another level. The good news, though, is that I'm usually up for a challenge.

Mea culpa to my runner friends

I should start this post with an apology to my runner pals who, throughout 2011, offered to train with me for a race. Any race. Even just a 5K or something. And I wrote a blog entry that was all, "I don't want to run, so back off."

Part of it was laziness. It's hard to run. I've never enjoyed it. And part of it was that people who run tend to get fairly obsessed with it. Every status update on Facebook is "Ran seven miles today (insert pat on the back here)." And I'm thinking, "Is there nothing else you have to update us on? I swear, I will hide you in my news feed!" (And wouldn't that just be tragic for them.)

But then I got to thinking, these people are obsessed for a reason. Clearly, there's something more enjoyable about this form of exercise than many other forms. Because I tell ya, nothing makes me want to update my status with the number of strides I did on the elliptical that morning. Mostly I just want to forget it ever happened and move on with my day.

So, with an apology to those who I brutally rebuffed in the past, I think I'm going to give it a whirl. I'd like to push it the next couple of months to take off the last chunk of poundage I need to lose so that by spring/early summer I'll be ready to do some sort of couch to 5K program.

No marathons, folks. No half marathons. I'm not in this to go crazy and push my body to its physical limits. There's absolutely nothing in that that sounds even mildly appealing. I just want to see what being a runner is all about and see if it would make working out every day more fun.

I'm not starting now. As much as I love the Y, and I certainly do, I can't imagine running laps around the track. It's way too reminiscent of sixth grade gym class, except without the cute boy butts to watch as I'm circling the track for the umpteenth time. (Relax. I was in sixth grade at the time, so it was OK back then to enjoy looking at sixth-grade booties.)

Anyway, it's something to work toward. We'll see how it goes. If I start updating my status every day with how many miles ... ok, yards ... I ran that day, though, feel free to hide me. That's just the worst.