I love getting up early on the weekends. I know this is insane, but sleeping kind of bores me. Plus, I love the weekend. I want to start it as early as I can.
I realize you don’t all share this opinion, and that I’m the weird one. I am used to this outcome.
Last night I hit the gym for a nice little run, which was actually therapeutic after a long week at the office. I entered the gym vowing to just do a 5k and get out of there, but after three miles I was still feeling pretty good, so I ended up doing a smidge over five instead.
There were a few times when I was more than ready to throw in the towel, but then Sheryl Crow would come on.
Another trick up my sleeve is that I think about people who can’t run, and that motivates me. Not people who won’t run, or hate doing it, or, as my mother always says “would only run if I was being chased. And then only until I could find a place to hide.”
I think about people who physically can’t run, because they’re injured or sick, and how lucky I am that I even have this option available to me. That my legs even move one foot in front of the other. That my lungs can handle the heavy breathing, even though I may or may not sound like a dying rhinoceros. I am still able.
That usually keeps me going for at least another mile or so, especially when I take into account that there was a point this Fall when I was in that boat (even though it was only minorly so). I wanted to run so badly, and I couldn’t. So now that I can, I should.
This logic might be slightly faulty, but it works like a charm.
And at the end of five miles, I had done something which I have not done since my injury, which was to run the gd thing in under 50 minutes.
Whew. That felt good. I nearly high fived myself right on the treadmill, but that would alienate me from my Y peers. I’d have to contain myself to a treadmill in the corner for the rest of my life, and wear a disguise. Luckily, I stopped myself.
I’m still significantly slower than I used to be, but I’m coming around to that. My speed will get better. Even if it’s not in time for the Shamrock Shuffle. And that’s totally okay.
After that accomplishment, I was feeling good. And this morning, I still am. JW and I are off to volunteer on the West side, which involves teaching a mess of elementary school kids how to play floor hockey (I don’t even know how to play floor hockey. I’ll have to fake it). This is probably my favorite kind of volunteering, because it involves both children and running around, and honestly, what is better than that?
Post volunteering, we’re headed to Caputo’s, an Italian market of wonder where the aisles are lined with pasta and olive oils.
Totally not kidding. I told JW to gear up this time and try not to hit any socializing little Italian ladies in the parking lot.
I hope everyone else is looking forward to a weekend of fun. Ta ta chickadees!