I. am. a runner.

This is a post in real time, because I am too excited. And any faithful reader who has hung in through all my butt picking, breast bouncing, uphill plodding "runs" deserves a little lightness from me.

As you might know, my running has been splotchy of late, in some part because Tony's grandmother is engaged in dying right now. (That's not the light part). So last night (for real), by the time we got home and had dinner, I had only time for a twenty minute outing. I decided that I must make the most of it. I didn't want to drop the amount of running I was doing (fifteen minutes), so I crunched the numbers, and came up with a 3 minute warm up, 8 minute run, 2 minute walk, 7 minute run. Since I took the two weeks off, I knew this was ambitious, but ya know, I am just that kind of woman.

I have learned that if I assign myself a topic to think about, the time passes easily. Some of the things I have considered: I have built some characters for a book I am thinking on, written amazing blog entries, planned all the baking I needed to do for the Spring Fair at B's school, and listed all the things I like about Tony. Brown. Just kidding. I knew that I when I said I was thinking interesting thoughts, you all wondered what I was thinking - well wonder no more, now you know. So I assigned my topic (should I stop watching TV/using the computer recreationally), and the first five minutes went by fairly easily.

When I looked at my trusty timepiece, and saw that five minutes had already gone by, I decided I would run as long as I felt okay - thinking maybe ten minutes. I finished my first loop, started round my second, which was downhill. That gave me my spirit back, and I set a goal of running the entire time. Near the end, I hit the steepest uphill. Although various body parts were complaining, I actually felt okay. I told my body to quit its whining, and just keep going. And here's the best part - it did! As I rounded the corner to my street, I slowed to a walk. I have come full circle. For the first time since the initial week, I ran the short loop by house. At that time, I ran six one minute sessions. Last night, I ran the entire time, for a total of sixteen minutes.

What does this mean for you, you ask? Well, it means that whenever I refer to a run that happens after today - I will no longer use quotes. I think that is deserving of being called a real run. Don't you?

Time Passages

I've been really enjoying my watch. Compared to the tiny timepiece I was using before, this is accurate, and now that I have the beeps under control, it's easy to use.

But I just can't resist playing games with it. My favourite game is to try to keep from looking at my watch until it is time to switch my activity - to start walking, or to stop running, my two favourite times. But the weirdest thing is happening. I have lost my touch with time. I am pretty good with the passage of time. I have that sixth sense that my oven timer is about to go. I can calculate with pretty good accuracy how much I can get done in a certain amount of time. Others in my family (who shall remain nameless) think that they can do four times as much as is reasonable in a given amount of time. For example, they might think that they can cook breakfast, play a game of Playstation football, and it will only be 11:00. Even though said nameless person didn't get into the kitchen until 11:15.

I'm still on the three minute cycle, so the game is to try to look at my watch as close to three minutes as possible (and if I am running, without going over). I do my thing, and when I hear the siren call of my watch, I ignore it. I know time well enough to know that when you are waiting for it to pass, it pokes fun at you by passing as slowly as it can. And when you are running uphill, you are definitely open for poking. When I think the time is right, I boldly take a peek. One minute, forty seconds. That means I was one minute and twenty seconds off - not a lot if you are trying to guess how long it takes to drive to Toronto, but come on - in a three minute window? That's just pathetic.

Perhaps I will do better walking. After all, there is nothing hard or painful about walking. I just have to resist the call, that's all. So, I think interesting thoughts - let me tell you, if I could blog while I was running, you would all be amazed at my talents. And I look. One minute forty seconds. I kid you not. In the course of my three minute runs, I am bizarrely in tune with this time. Sometimes it is 39 seconds, sometimes 42 - but almost always in this range. Even when I tell myself to wait, so that at least if I'm not at three minutes, I won't be at the same number.... I am. And I have no hypothesis as to why that is. Even though I have spent one minute and forty seconds thinking about it.

She's baaaack......

Well. Sorry about that. I had an unexpected, unplanned, undesirable fall off the wagon. I'd like to thank you all for your calls and letters, the flowers, the support. I apologize for not being here to amuse and motivate you. I haven't run for a couple of weeks, and it seems that if I am not running, I can't blog (even though I have a backlog of runs to write about). The children were sick. I was sick. And then, (the horror) I was unmotivated. I just didn't feel like it. The thought of running was as appealing as the thought of eating my own snot. And I had lots of it.

So what did I do with my lack of motivation? I wallowed in it. I felt sorry for myself about how hard it is to find the time to go running. I wondered why I ever thought I would be able to stick this out, given my historic lack of attention span. I learned more about how to eat around the chocolate/coke/cookie moratorium. For example, did you know that gummy bears contain no chocolate, bear no resemblance to cookies, and are not drinkable?

And I lost weight. CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THAT? I lost weight. I finally fell under the 160 mark, a number I have not seen since I was on the way up the dial. Which means early university, probably. Good thing I don't live by the scale, because I would be done with this exercising thing. As it is, I am reasonable enough to understand that it is probably a loss of muscle that caused the weight loss. And that it isn't relevant - it is more healthy to exercise than not to exercise. But somehow, that just doesn't seem - right.

Anyway, I ran yesterday. It was good. Someday I hope to blog about it. For now, I shall go and have a caffeine free Diet Coke, munch a few carrots, and plan my next run. Thanks for coming back, and I hope to see you again.