This "running thing" seems to have the world (or at least my little corner of it) all aflutter. The range of commentary that I've received about it has ranged from the insulting ("you can't possibly keep that up") to the incredulous ("I figured you'd give it up once you realized it hurts") to the unintentionally patronizing (informing me of various risks and dangers to this plan and to exercise in general) to the envious (which goes without saying). It's time to set the record straight.
I have, with brief lapses due to the killer migraine that I had last week, either run or walked every other day for about a month. The running goes like this: Sam scampers up around 6:AM. I bound blindly down the stairs of my apartment and meet her in the parking lot. We jog (during which time she's just about falling over because we're going so slow) a couple of blocks east and meet up with her friend Caitlin (sp). After the most huffy-puffy, early-morning, desultory greeting, we get moving. We jog a couple of blocks, talking all the while. Then we walk for a block because I cannot possibly jog another step. After that block's recuperation, we repeat the process for a route lasting approximately 1.5 miles, ending at my apartment. After I veer off toward the door, the other two scamper off to complete their run, while I sweat to death and think longingly of collapse. The steps up to the apartment nearly kill me.
The other version is the walk. It goes like this: at either 7AM or 5:30 PM (depending upon work schedules), my walking buddy/buddies (we've had as many as four for this) pull into the apartment parking lot. If I'm paying attention, I grab my towel, bug spray, keys and sunglasses, and bound down the stairs to meet them. Usually buddy #1 has already ascended the stairs to retrieve me. We drive to the next town over (5 min.), park, bug spray, and take off. We walk a path that is primarily dead straight, running along a stream that feeds into the local "river." (I believe that it is part of this forest preserve.) We walk pretty fast, but we are by no means "race-walking." The path is 1.59 miles long, but we do "the loop" (like I said, it's a straight shot but for one little extra bit, almost perfectly circular, beginning and ending on the main path) only once and so we go about 3 miles.
That's it. THAT'S IT. Barely more than a mile of "jogging" or 3 miles of walking, every other day. I'm not exercise-anorexic. I'm not insane. This isn't such a shocking development. Just getting a little exercise.
My doctor told me (as he has a million times) a couple of years ago that I "could stand to lose 20 pounds." He said it in the nicest way possible - I've had a crush on him since the moment I met him and I think he's the nicest man ever - but I never really took it that seriously. "20 pounds? I look fine. I can eat whatever I want, however much I want, and I'll live forever."
It's not that easy. My family has a history of every disease or ailment that a sedentary lifestyle makes worse. And my goddamned jeans don't fit. That's the thing. My clothes don't fit.
So. Off I go. The secondary purpose/intent of the enterprise has changed somewhat since it was launched, but it's still working well enough that I will continue. I'm already thinking about what to do when Sam returns to school, and then later when the weather turns gross. A gym? A class or two, mornings or evenings? (I'm thinking martial arts {mmm, kickboxing!}, or dancing, or yoga.) When I've lost enough size that it'll matter, I'm going to 'reward' myself with some new workout clothes; at the moment, I'm wearing whatever t-shirts and shorts I find stuffed in the back of my closet, sized to fit my former spouse much more than me. (Or, in all honesty, sized to fit both of us at once. We liked our clothes oversized. Ahem.)
My first goal: those new exercise clothes. My second goal: the 20 pounds that my dr. wants to see me without. (Hee, that sounds more salacious than it really is. But, hee!) My third goal: another 30, maybe 35 pounds. This will not bring me to the brink of death; this will bring me to my fightin' weight. It'll take forever at the rate I'm going, but I don't really care. What else was I doing with "forever" except trying to make it feel as good as possible?
That's it. No big mystery, no big danger. Medical encouragement, supervision, and rationale. Good friends helping me along the way. Good for me.
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