I've alluded to this in other posts, but haven't really given it much time/space on the blog (mostly because I'm waaaaaaaaay behind on my blogging).
Shortly before I turned 32 I started running. It was entirely, 100%, due to peer pressure because in the 31.99 years prior to September of 2013 I hated running with every fiber of my being. I'd done spinning (love), pilates (double love), Zumba (meh), yoga (for 13+ years, j'adore), roller skating (used to love), rock climbing (miss that!), swimming (boring), and weight lifting (double boring). But never running.
In fact, I almost failed PE because I walked the mile. I think I passed the class because I always dressed down, wasn't a pain in the ass (other than my refusal to run), and my PE teacher just got tired of badgering me about the run and didn't want to have to deal with it again the next year.
So it's not really surprising that neither my husband nor my mother ever thought I would turn into a runner. I never imagined it would happen, although I was certain it could happen - if only because I suffer under the long standing delusion that I can do anything I want if only I try.
Anyway, Chrissy harassed me about it enough (ok, she didn't really harass me, but she was very encouraging) and the week before I turned 32 I bought shoes and went for my first run.
I ran a mile. I had to stop three times.
I ran inconsistently after that. Sometimes a mile, sometimes a mile and a half. Then I started getting up early and going for runs before breakfast. These were usually 2.5 mile jaunts. Sometimes stopping to stretch, sometimes stopping to walk for a block.
Then I pulled my hamstring after a 3 mile run and a particularly intense yoga class. I was sidelined for over a week and I started to realize that I kinda liked running.
Once I got the all clear to exercise, I started running more frequently. Taking breaks after tattoo appointments (because running with a new back tattoo is unpleasant) and taking breaks for holidays (although I did run on New Years Eve and New Years Day).
I've done one official 5K and have signed up for 1 more, plus a 10K, and I'm thinking about a half marathon in August.
If my PE teacher could only see me now. Ha!
I really do like running. I like running with someone best, because you push each other to go farther (ok, Chrissy pushes me, I'm not good enough yet to really challenge anyone). But running solo has it's benefits, it gives me time to think, which is nice. I take the dog on occasion, although she is more than a little annoyed that I don't run faster.
I will say this, I am SLOW. For the 5K I clocked in at just over 39 minutes - that's over a 13 minute/mile pace. I never stopped or walked, but it was uphill for the first half and uphill suuuuuuuuucks.
My average pace is a 13 minute/mile or just under BUT today I ran 4 miles and ran a pace of 11.28.
ELEVEN AND A HALF MINUTE MILE.
It would be awesome to run a 10 minute mile. Ok, it would be awesome to run an 11 minute mile. I'm still stoked that I ran almost a minute and a half under my normal pace.
I will never be fast, but maybe one day soon I won't be super slow.
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