Starting the Couch To 5K - Day One

With a little help from some friends, I have decided I need a specific goal to work towards as far as my weight loss and health gain is concerned. It was suggested to me to try a marathon. That, of course, would be perfect. It is a very specific goal, running is one of the best ways to lose weight and gain health, I already have what I need to start running, so it fits my meager budget. There's only one problem...

I'm not a runner.

I never have been. Even in school, before I destroyed my lungs with years of smoking (I quit, by the way...and yes, I'm still clinging to that accomplishment as one of the most fan-freaking-tastic things I've ever done in my life.) I wasn't a runner. In gym class, I would run for a little bit and then walk and watch, red-faced and out of breath, as faster classmates passed me and were already walking off the stitch in their side at the finish line. In high school, I told my PE teacher that I couldn't run because I wasn't wearing a support bra that day. Avoiding any eye contact with my chest, they just shook their heads and walked away, which is what I was going for. I was awesome at excuses in high school. It was one of the few things I was good at in high school.

Now, I'm in my late thirties, and I'm still not a runner. And I still have a large chest, but I do have support bras. And there's no one to make excuses to except myself. It's hard to bullshit yourself. I really have to work at it.

So I've decided to try the Couch to 5K training program. I've been walking on the treadmill for a few months now. But as any one with two legs will tell you, walking ain't running.

For the first week of training. I was supposed to do a brisk walk for 5 minutes, then alternate with 60 seconds of jogging, then 90 seconds of walking for a total of twenty minutes. I made it ten. Ten itty-bitty minutes. My legs started to burn, so I thought, That's good. That means I'm doing something right. I'll run through the pain.

Then the pain said, Oh no, you won't.

I had to stop. I had to stop and force myself to walk it off and not collapse in a heap on the floor, whimpering and crying like a baby.

Then I went to lift weights and do my stability ball exercises so I didn't feel like a complete failure.

I'm not giving up, though. I am still going to try to morph myself into a runner...

It just may take a while.



Photo Credit: arinas74/sxc.hu

Finding Motivation

As I get older, I'm always losing things. I'm not sure if this has more to do with the fact that I can't remember where I put them, or the fact that I'm not the most organized female in the world. I'm not even the most organized female in my house, and the only other dose of estrogen there is the dog.

Anyway, the latest thing I seem to have lost is my motivation to eat right and work out. I was going good there for about a week, which is actually longer than I commit to most things. (My kids don't know how lucky they are.)

I lost three pounds within the first week. Then the weekend hit and by Monday I had not only gained those three pounds back, but I also added another to it.

Sonofa...

That's about the time I hit my "eff this" stage. I actually hit that stage quite a bit. I'm pretty sure they have a little plaque hanging in my honor at that stage.

Now I know, deep down inside, that the weight is probably that temperamental water weight that takes up residence every month, and maybe, just maybe (dare I hope?) it may also be a little bit of muscle thrown in too, because there for awhile I really was feeling the burn.

But in my irrational womanly, hormone-imbalanced brain, the scale called me fat. So I agreed and had hamburgers and tater tots with the boys. And didn't work out.

(I did restrain myself from scarfing down a milkshake because I knew there was no coming back from that ledge.)

I was all set to give in to the taunting of the big mean scale until I read a blog post by Lindsay Maddox where she dared her readers to stop making excuses. She dared me. So now I kinda sorta hafta stop making excuses. It's the rule of a dare.

But I'm not running, Lindsay! Do you hear me? You can't make me run! Although burning 1,000 calories sounds awesome. Do you know how much I could eat if I burned 1,000 calories...

Bahahaha!

So, since Miss Lindsay dared me to stop making excuses, I'm going to stop making excuses and find my motivation.

Maybe the dog knows where it is...



Photo Credit: julosstock/sxc.hu