Last night, my C25K schedule had me running for 8 minutes and walking for 5 (x2). Up until yesterday I hadn't run any longer than 5 minutes and I was worried about that 8 minute number.
Eight. Minutes. Surely I can't do that. I mean, 5 minutes still makes me want to die. This program MUST be written for someone in better shape than me!
Yesterday was kind of a mess right from the start. The bus going downtown only made one stop - the furthest from my actual place of work. I was late getting in, thankfully given our situation, no one cared. The taco salad I'd made myself for lunch (oh, yum) turned out to hit the 6-700 calorie mark (oh, oops). And then when I left, I went and waited for the bus where I thought it was going to pick us up.
It didn't show up. I ended up on a different bus going in the same general direction with no idea about whether or not it would actually get me within walking distance of my house. So I texted my husband and asked him if he could pick me up if I needed him to. No response. When I was dropped off, far enough from the house I didn't WANT to walk, but close enough that I could, I tried calling him. You know, just in case my laziness would pay off with a ride.
I walked home. The dog was so happy to see me. The cats wanted food and I needed to give my one cat (the grumpy one) THREE oral medications. Yes. Three. I yelled at the dog and he went into his kennel and pouted and I got royally scratched by the cat. I don't know why, but he doesn't appreciate having a syringe stuck in his mouth and foul tasting liquid squirted down his throat. Crazy animal...
By the time I had that all done (and coaxed the dog out of his kennel to go outside and get fed), I'd eaten a handful of the leftover tortilla chips from the taco salad and I was sweating like I'd already been to the gym (stupid humidity).
I changed for the gym, all the while that negative self talk was circling in my head. "You can't run for 8 minutes. Just stay home. Look, there's a nice bag of tortilla chips to drown your out-of-shape sorrows! And then maybe we can go to McDonald's for some fries!"
I don't know why, but I was craving McDonald's like you wouldn't believe.
Maybe because it was EASIER than facing the fear and possible failure of going to the gym.
As I was stepping out the door, my husband pulled up. I stopped to chat with him and almost allowed myself to be distracted, until he kicked me out and told me to get myself to the gym and run the damned 8 minutes.
So I went. And I felt good. I scaled back the incline on the treadmill for the run. I scaled back my pace slightly.
And. I. Did. It.
Seriously, I'm pretty sure after the first 8 minutes, I was grinning for the rest of the workout. And trying not to raise my arms like the champion I felt I was.
Yeah, I know. It was 8 minutes of running.
But it was more than that. It was fear. It was really negative self talk. It was cravings for chips and cheeseburgers and fries. It was proving to myself that I CAN do this. That I'm not a fake. That I am a runner. I am getting fit. I am strong.
It was accepting who I am becoming rather than falling back to the old comfort zone.
The old me would've quit. It is easier to give in to the fear than it is to face it and overcome it.
And here's the thing. I've been dreading tomorrow's workout for awhile. Ever since I looked ahead in the schedule, I've seen it looming there on the horizon. Run 20 minutes.
All at once.
After last night? I know I can do it.
In exactly 1 month, I run my first 5K race. And I'm going to be ready for it!
And then? Mr Moose and I are going to go celebrate in Vegas. Well, it's not the 5K we're celebrating. It's more that he's going to actually have some time off and he needs a break. It just happens to be happening the week after my 5K. I told him we have to stay at the Mirage end of the strip (if not at the Mirage) because I'm TOTALLY celebrating with Chicken and Waffles at B.B. Kings.