Quick– when you see those words, what things pop into your head?
The newest thing in runner’s training programs? Future reality TV show pitch? Le sigh, I wish.
In June, when I first posted about running a half marathon, I was excited and optimistic. Back then there were many weeks before October 16th.
In August, I was still optimistic, having gotten up to almost 7 miles, though slightly less excited (running long distances on a treadmill is mind-numbing and it was HOT outside), and starting to procrastinate my training.
Some nights I had to really force myself to the treadmill. I knew it was a bad sign that I was already bored after 1/4 mile. Having skipped some days already, I also knew I couldn’t afford to skip that night’s run.
Which is how I ended up doing my best Rocky shadow-boxing imitation, while simultaneously mimicking Jennifer Grey’s mambo steps from Dirty Dancing. On a treadmill. During a thunderstorm.
Wait– WTF does a thunderstorm have to do with anything?
Well, had there not been a thunderstorm, Cruiser-Dog wouldn’t have been in the basement. He definitely wouldn’t have attempted to save himself from the lightening by climbing on the treadmill with me. Where, if you recall, I was totally absorbed in my mambo-step, shadow-boxing thing.
See, that fact that I almost fell off makes perfect sense now, right? And that slight twinge I felt in my hip that night didn’t worry me much. The crushing pain on the next run, 2 nights later, was a little wince-worthy. But I rested, iced, and ibuprofen-ed.
The throbbing pain I felt last week, on what should have been just a picturesque beach run, was more ominous.
The frozen spinach currently resting on my hey-don’t-forget-you-messed-me-up-hip, after a brief 2.97 mile run (outside at least!) is making me nervous. Nervous in that, oh shit, what if I can’t get healed, get trained enough to run that damn 13.1 mile race-thing coming up in 5 weeks? Which is something I might have to accept (but not yet!).
See, I’m out there for fat girls everywhere!
—————-> Squirrel: I do love watching/hearing from the folks that have all kinds of opinions about the nutrition/exercise habits of the chunky folk. By love, I mean it’s one of the many things things that make me twitchy. All of those assumptions sourcing from the (incorrect) belief that being thin is somehow synonymous with healthy and strong. Which is, of course, utter and total bullshit. Strength and health are determined by many different things– numerical weight being only one data point.
In the olden days, my extra layer of fat, child-birthing hips, and large knockers were considered the ideal demonstration of femininity. I like Rubens; he was a smart man. While I’m not the svelte size 8 I expected to be after 5 months of regular running– I am surprisingly toned for my size 12 body. And if a size 12 was good enough for Marylin Monroe… END SQUIRREL <--------- Still, with regard to running-- my advice to the masses is to save the Jennifer Grey mambo-stepping for unmoving surfaces.