Been awhile. In that time I have had enough ups and downs to make a roller coaster jealous. I’ve run the Broad Street, but at a much slower pace then I wanted. I also wanted to quit at mile nine and did in fact start walking. For about two minutes and then decided to finish it. I was soooooooo happy it was over though. Pretty sure I was signed off organized runs for good. My leg decided to agree and made it’s opinion known in the pain that reverberates in my right leg from hip to ankle but mostly in my thigh.
That lasted about two weeks, the desire to quit not the pain, the pain is still here. I had several crappy runs where I had to keep walking, and multiple mornings where I dragged myself to the gym but probably would have slept harder than I was working out. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. It was lasting long enough that I was beginning to think it was just who I was and not a passing state. And then last Sunday I ran five miles and I felt amazing. During the run anyway. My leg is still complaining. But I ran for sixty minutes, which was my goal and I felt as though I could have kept going. That was also my goal, so I didn’t. Since then, I’ve been popping Ibuprofen or Exedrin like they are vitamins. Between headaches, my leg and my body checking out puberty part two, something hurts all the time. And I am a solid bitch on wheels. Be forewarned, if you are coming to ask my opinion about something I will be brutally honest, I will possibly enjoy it, there will be no positive spin and I may later go and cry because I deeply regret it on some level. Oh, and I’ll blame you. Yeah, sane thought has pretty much left the building. Loving being forty eight almost forty nine. That is only sort of tongue in cheek.
Anyway, this morning I didn’t feel like getting up so I farted around until I remembered that I had TWO slices of pizza last night and knew I had to get my ass out the door. Unfortunately that was after twelve. So it was freaking steamy out. Too hot, too soon for me. But, I couldn’t deny the pizza (even though I blamed my husband for buying it!) or the fact that my ass is flying up the scale, so I started huffing. After about three quarters of a mile I thought I was going to die. I wanted to go at least a mile. I didn’t. I took a one minute break and started again. Okay, here we go, started running got through about another half mile and decided it was too hot. I didn’t feel like it. Blah Blah! Turned off my watch and walked, for awhile. I was just going to walk, I haven’t run in a week, I’ll just walk for now. It was hot. I guess I walked about a half mile and the next thing I knew, I was running again. I don’t even remember thinking about it, or planning. But just like when my body comes to stop, it went to go. So I ran for another mile. Walked some more, and ran for another mile. And then I decided I was done for real. And I checked my watch. It was only 12:45 so the whole walk run thing had only taken me forty five minutes, which considering the fact that I was taking a lot of walk breaks, means that my pace couldn’t have been too bad. Which made me sort of happier even though I knew that it wasn’t enough to compensate for the pizza. But since the next few weeks are full of parties, the idea that I am going to wrestle the number on the scale down any time soon is a little unrealistic. I guess I will work towards not making it worse.
Part of what really bothers me is I feel as though all the hard work a few years ago has just floated away. One bout of appendicitis and I am right back where I started. And that just makes me crazy frustrated. Having a body that sometimes wants to hang in peri-menopause and sometimes wants to be in PMS is not helping me remain positive. If one more person tells me that I will never get back there because I am getting older I really may flip the fuck out. It was six months ago, not six years ago. So yeah, fuck you.
On an up note, I am bringing biking back, because it makes me so happy. And even though my watch treats it like a non-event, biking is still thrilling. And I have decided to try working on the machines at the gym as opposed to free weights. I have always read that free weights were better and more efficient, but I think you can get a good work out on the machines. So I am trying to put in two strength sessions a week. It is harder because I have to get up at four as opposed to four thirty when I run or bike outside, but it is worth it I hope.
And I really want to run the Rock and Roll Half Marathon. And I am going to try to do ten minute miles for it. I don’t know if I can, maybe I never could, but I’ll never know if I don’t try. And, you know, screw everyone who thinks I should just accept getting older and not doing as much. Maybe that’s their narrative, but it is not mine!