In an effort to lift some of the brain fog, lose the baby weight, prevent the diabetes that runs rampant in my family, and generally feel good again I have undertaken the Couch to 5K running program. I intend to run a 5K by the end of the year. Damnit. And I would really like to lose another 15 pounds in the process. Hopefully it will help me stick around on this spinning rock long enough to very actively spoil my kids and grandkids too. Really hoping.
For some unknown reason, a very good friend of mine has joined me in this tortuous quest despite knowing that I was not thinking clearly and had a fairly raving case of post-partum tinged depression when I hatched my plan. He is a glutton for punishment and I wonder sometimes if he doesn’t show up just to laugh at my suffering as only a real friend could. But I digress. We have been at it now for 6 weeks. And we completed (much our shock and amazement) our first Week Three run yesterday. Hell Yeah!
Yes it has been a torturous process indeed. But we are sticking with it.
Imagine us, if you will, running around this hipster park in Nashville. All the super-groovy, skinny, cool kids are running with their super-cute, rescue dogs. They are wearing their “green”, designer running clothes and shoes made from sustainable manufacturing practices. They are thinking about which super-hip, organic food truck they are going to for dinner before stirring their compost heap and gathering the eggs from their backyard chickens. These folks are giving our two gasping, super-ungroovy selves as wide a berth as humanly possible. It is quite the mix of cultures. And we are no doubt quite the sight to behold.
My jiggles have jiggles now and believe me they do indeed jiggle when I attempt to move at a pace faster than a slow stroll. I might be causing a tsunami that is taking out a small South Pacific island according to the butterfly effect. My friend on the other hand, doesn’t looks so bad other than a limp from an old injury that gives him some grief. I don’t believe any islands are at peril when he runs. In my defense, he hasn’t made two whole humans in the past two years but then again he does have almost twenty years on me (sorry for telling that dude). Certainly neither of us could be considered finely tuned athletic machines. Nope. Not in the least. Though he is closer to it than I…for now.
We have determined that what we do can’t really be considered running. There is a fair amount of stumbling involved, especially toward the end of the run. So we call it stunning (STumbling + rUNNING). We go stunning.
We hope to graduate to rumbling soon. (Running + stUMBLING) But that means we will need to run more than we stumble. And that is still a good ways off.
But I’m feeling better. I can now put gas in the car without several minutes of deep thought and concentration. Some of the weight is starting to get lost. Don’t have diabetes yet either. And it is good to beat a challenge, no matter how small, each week. Getting back to the car still standing has never felt so good. I can’t speak for my friend, but I think he is feeling good about it too.
So wish us luck. Because we are simply stunning! Mawahaha!