I hated gym class. Hated. It. I was lazy and uncoordinated and so not an athlete, so when given an option of which activity I wanted to participate in, my friends and I would always pick the easy one. Like ping pong. Or bowling. And we must have done the weight training session about five times over the course of the year.
But the one activity we could never get out of was the mile.
Know what I hated more than gym class? Running the mile in gym class. Not that I actually ran, mind you. I was one of those twenty-minute walkers. Running four laps around the track was pure torture and I would not do it. Couldn’t do it. Or maybe I could if I actually forced myself, but why would I want to do that? No, no, I was that girl who was encouraged by the gym teachers to “Run the straight section, walk the curves.” I’d do that for maybe a lap and then just walk the rest of it. I mean, seriously. Unless I’m being chased by a freaking bear, there is no “run” in my vocabulary.
Like I said, exercise and I didn’t get along.
But that is slowly starting to change. This weekend I, once again, spent my time watching The Biggest Loser on Hulu. I’m moving back through the various seasons and while last weekend I felt a twinge of disappointment at not losing weight as fast as the contestants, no matter how absurd their progress is, this weekend I kept reminding myself I’ve lost (as of today) 63.4 lbs all on my own. I feel happy and healthy and that is a huge accomplishment regardless of the number on the scale.
Then, though, I realized that these contestants — many of whom weigh 100, 200 pounds more than I did even a year ago — are running. They are on those treadmills at speeds of 7 or 8 and while they may only be running for a minute, that is a minute more than I can boast. And, really, what’s my excuse for not running? I am unable to say I “can’t” run when I’ve never even tried.
So I decided to go running.
Now, it’s not like I just threw on my sneakers and did a few laps around my neighborhood. I live in a building with a mini gym, including a treadmill and I decided to do intervals: Walk for 30 seconds, Jog for 90 seconds at a speed of 3.0. Twenty minutes later, I had kept that routine up for a full mile. It’s not earth shattering, but it’s more than I have ever done in my entire life. And that is impressive
Thing is? I didn’t just like it. I loved it. I loved the burst of adrenaline that came as soon as I started jogged again. I loved the power I felt in my body. I loved the sense of accomplishment at finishing that mile. I loved sitting down after and adding it up to realize that I jogged for a total of fifteen minutes. Oh, sure, it was hell and sucked. But even while doing it, the pros outweighed the cons. I did it about an hour after breakfast and later in the afternoon I even had a moment where I thought I should go run some more.
Oh em gee. I’ve created a monster.
Love from the ashes,