The Agony and the Ecstasy

In March I started a fear-based training program after signing up for the Irongirl Duathlon (taking place September 27th). First and foremost, my goal was to not die/ faint/ lose bowel control at the event. It's good to have goals.

The course map looks a little something like this. Run 2, Bike 22, Run 2. Because I started commuting to work over a year ago the riding aspect didn't really intimidate me. I know my legs. I know my bike. And I know both can do the job without falling apart. But running was a different matter. I hadn't run since high school and that incident consisted of an inglorious 14 minute mile that both my butch gym coach and wretched classmates laughed at. Openly.

So I did the best thing a terrified beginner could do: I got advice from someone who knows what they're doing and followed it.

I spoke with my best friend/ pilates instructor, Anna. "First," she told me, "get good shoes. Skimping on shoes just means foot, leg, back, muscle pain down the road." Check and check. I went to Sports Authority in Richfield and tried on every single pair of women's and men's shoes until I found a pair that was like stepping on clouds. Don't limit yourself to a certain brand or even style. Try it all until you find a pair that fit perfectly.

Next Anna said, "start slowly with interval training. Run a block then walk a block. Don't expect to run a marathon right away. Building up to 2 miles will take a lot of time and effort."

With those words Anna set me free. It had never crossed my mind I could allow myself to walk in my running training. Everyone I have ever seen running, was, well, running. I thought walking meant failure and ridicule (thank you high school!!) but in reality, walking is an important stepping stone to building enough endurance/ muscle strength to run.

So way back in March, when the sidewalks were still wet and partially covered in ice I set out on my run 1 block/ walk 1 block training program.

I ran 1 block!

Then I laid down in a random yard and rested.

Then I ran 1 block!

Then I puked blood in the street.

Then I ran 1 block!

Then I tried to flag down passing cars for a ride home.

It was agonizing. My insides felt like they were sloshing around and painfully bumping into each other. I was water logged. My lungs were angry and my muscles felt like they were tearing off my bones. I wanted to quit... But I didn't quit. I got really really pissed off instead. There I was, a 25 year old woman who couldn't move quickly under her own power for farther than 1 damned block. Come on. So I fought back. The next day I ran 1 block and 3 steps. The day after that I ran 1 block and the entire intersection. Every single time it got better and I went farther. I forced myself to continue on through stubborn, begruding determination.

If you are struggling in your fitness routine, the best advice I can give is to make it personal. Get angry at the distance that has conquered you. Whether it's 2 miles or 20 you must under no circumstance be defeated. With that in mind I plodded on. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. It happened so slowly I honestly didn't realize a change had taken place. Yesterday I decided, quite spur of the moment, to take the long way home. 4 hilly miles. And it didn't hurt. To my utter and total disbelief I actually enjoyed myself.

I guess the moral of the story besides achieving goals, feeling good about yourself, and conquring what you used to think was impossible, is really that everyone from my high school can suck it.