I know I’ve written about my distaste for running before, but I thought I’d mention it again to help you understand the gravity of the statement I’m about to make in the fifth paragraph. So here it is again, for those of you who’ve forgotten: I am not a runner. No wait, that’s wrong. What I am is the antithesis of a runner: I am a sit-on-the-couch-and-eat-cake-balls-er. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not a big fan of aerobic activity in general, and since I consider running to be the mother of all aerobic activity, I also consider it to be absolutely not my thing. I’m winded and writhing in pain on the floor just from writing about running. Would you be so kind as to hold on while I recover? I’ll be back to finish this story next week.
Except not! Ever since I had The Surgery, I’ve been pretty inconsistent with my diet and exercise regimen. It was sort of like “here are your boobs and your discharge papers; don’t let the wagon hit you on the way out.” For a while I sort of relished the opportunity to be bad—Want to go for a walk? Can’t, I’m post-op. Should we go get ice cream? Well…it might make the scars less noticeable…—and I wasn’t exactly inspired to hit the salad bar while I was in NYC, or during those weeks that I was learning how to be a commuter. But as soon as Sean proposed, visions of engagement photos and bridal showers started dancing in my head, and I suddenly found myself wracked with fear about muffin topping all over sample size wedding dresses. (I even had a dream about it! Oh yes! Wherein none of the standard sizes would zip. Who zips a wedding dress, by the way?)
Ever since July 3 (well, let’s be realistic—July 5—I drank too much champagne and Messina Hof wine to claim my engagement day as the starting point) I’ve been acutely aware of every bite and step I take. Still, I’ve had trouble latching on to an exercise routine that I’m willing to commit to. I tried to get back into Power 90 because I know it’s effective and not terribly time-consuming, but it’s just so darned repetitive (cardio, weights, repeat) that doing it felt like a chore. Plus, it’s tough to be consistent because I’m back and forth between my parents’ house and my fiancé’s apartment so much, and I can’t take the DVD with me because my mom uses it too.
My new friend at work (I should really give her a pseudonym, huh? Like “Florence?”) My new friend Florence is a runner, and an avid one at that. She quite frequently regales me with stories about half-marathons, 8-minute miles, and being able to eat 3,000 calories per day at the height her training (I know, right!?). Yesterday, after Florence and I had each enjoyed a cake ball (my first and second-to-last of the week, thanks—the rest of the office has been gobbling them up since Monday) and after I’d read on my company’s wellness webpage that running is the most effective calorie burner around, I realized that 30 minutes of weight training with Tony Horton wasn’t going to cut it. So I made a radical decision—rather than go home and slog through P90, I would go home and run!
I’ve made decisions like this before, but I’m always quick to change my mind when I’m three minutes in and death is imminent. Still, what kind of bride would I be if I didn’t at least try? So when I got home, I put on my workout gear, turned on the most recent episode of The Next Food Network Star, hopped on the dreadmill, and I ran. And you know what? It wasn’t that bad. In fact, I ran for a whole 23.5 minutes and 2 miles and never once stopped! (Although the thought did cross my mind a couple of times. But all I had to do was look at my ring and poof! It was gone.) In fact, so tolerable was this run that I did it again today even though my legs were sore and I could have talked myself out of it if I’d really wanted to.
I was so surprised by my success that I told Florence all about it as soon as I got to work this morning. “But,” I said, “I think the reason I was able to do it is that I was distracted. When I run outside, all I can think about is how hard it is to breathe, how much my knees hurt, how tense my shoulders are, how hot it is, how much I’m sweating, how eager I am to quit, etc, etc. But when I run on the dreadmill, I can focus on the fate of the characters on my show instead of my own.” And then Florence, who was understandably excited by my change of heart, took things just a wee bit too far: “Awesome! Now we can run 5Ks together!” No, Florence, no we cannot. Not unless I can hook a TV to my shoulders and charge through episodes of Mad Men.
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
2 years ago
3 comments:
i can't do running! i end up in asthmatic shock and want to die! so 2 miles in 23 minutes is way impressive to me. the only way i can even get myself to the gym is with a personal trainer who is easy on the eyes and always tells me, "good job! high five!" 3 times a week.
don't worry about not fitting into wedding sample sizes unless the sample sizes in dallas are 2s. all the samples in the midwest are 10s and 12s. they're going to fall off you.
I too hate running, but have also come to the conclusion that running on a treadmill is a million times easier than running outside in the insufferable heat of Texas. I've decided that running isn't really for me though and have since switched to Zumba. You should check out if there are any local gyms that you could hit for those days when even running on the treadmill doesn't sound like much fun. I LOVE going to Zumba and I get one heck of a workout. I know that there are DVDs available too. Anywho, best of luck and I know you'll be a beautiful bride :)
Liane, exercise has always been the bane of my existence, but lately it's become less of a chore. After the big day though, I suspect I won't do much more than walk my Netflix to the mailbox...
Lara, I YouTubed Zumba--it looks like fun! I've been open to all sorts of new physical activities recently (um...9-mile bike rides, what!?) so I'll have to see if I can try it out!
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