This week started my reduced hours at work, which means I don't have to be at work until 8 am, which means that when the baby wakes us up at 5:30 am I have a good half hour to whine and complain about his early internal alarm, 10 minutes to talk myself into going for a run, 5 minutes to get ready for said run, and then 5 minutes to explain to the other early morning risers that Mommy will indeed come home from her run to shower and eat breakfast with them before she has to leave again for work. And after a 5 minute goodbye hug, kiss, wave, high-five, hug and kiss again, then a final smooch all from Maggie, I am ready to hit the road.
The first mile of all my runs, but especially morning runs, is so incredibly awkward. I feel like a newborn foal learning how to walk, my back and hammies are stiff, my breathing is off pace, my clothes aren't hanging properly, and my ipod decides to play those slow songs that somehow got mixed up in my running music playlist. I love Alan Jackson's "Remember When" but it's not exactly the tempo I am striving for.
I start to hit my stride in the second mile and play games in my head to help me not look at my Garmin to see my pace and time and distance. I either try to just look at my pace without getting depressed that I've only gone 1.1 miles and still have a million to go, or I want to see the time to make sure I can manuever my way back home to shower and eat in time before work, or I look at my pace just to punish myself into picking it up a little faster.
By the third mile I am in the zone. My breathing is even, my body is loose, my pace is established, my route is determined, my fast tempo songs are playing, and I just start thinking. I think about how beautiful the weather is, how lucky we are to live so close to the ocean, how much I love my husband and kids, if and when we are going to expand our family, how God has blessed me abundantly, you know deep stuff like that.
Mile four is about the time I start writing blog posts in my head. I'll see three cute bunny rabbits and think about writing a post on procreation. I'll pass by two elderly ladies out for their morning walk and remember the importance of friendship and relationships and wonder why I am so bad at cultivating them in real life. Then I'll remember all of my bloggy friends and wish that they could all be my neighbors because it is slightly stalkerish to know so much about someone you've never met.
This morning at the 5th mile marker I received my first cat call ever. At least I think it was a cat call. Two 50-something men were sitting outside their shop in lawnchairs and I'm pretty sure drinking beer at 7 am, and one of them said "Heeeeeeyyyyyyy!", and I look over (force of habit) and they smiled. That's the perfect definition of a cat call, right? The only thing that didn't completely send me over the edge with fear is that I knew I could run away faster than their beer bellies could carry them.
As I approached the sixth mile, I was so close to home and picked up the pace to finish strong for all the non-existent crowd support. This is when I always wonder how fast I could've run if I had this much energy and speed saved up for the end. Maybe if I had spread out my energy better I could have run sub-9 minute miles. Oh well, I'm not running for training, I'm running for eating. And on that note, I am off to prepare lunch and think about what's for dinner while eating it :)
love this! kirk, my hubby, always starts each run by making the sign of the cross, he says that exercising is a type of prayer.ReplyDelete
Kirk is so smart!!! I need to start doing this from now on.Delete
First of all, what is this about a cat call? Secondly, I find it hard to believe its your first one. I have seen you run and I know am not the only one who notices how good you look. Admit it. The cat call of one middle aged man means more to you than a hundred of my compliments. Why is that?ReplyDelete
I love that you can compliment me and make me feel guilty all at the same time. You are very talented! And the cat call from a middle aged man is creepy, not flattering. Honestly.Delete
I love how your hubby chimed in on this one!ReplyDelete
I like how your mind wandered, you make it seem so easy, even in a blog post, but what you do is hard and you are amazing!!
I agree, a cat call from a middle aged man is creepy, although, we are getting pretty close to middle age now and maybe it's not as creepy as it sounds anymore....when I was 18, my parents neighbor at the time, was a truck driver and he asked me when I was getting the mail, if I'd like to go with him on a run (truck) sometime....creeeeeepy, my dad's response? "Well, gotta give the guy credit for trying" (nice, huh?)
I will never ever ever think of myself as middle aged :)Delete
Seriously, are you peeking in my head? This is exactly how my runs go (minus the catcalls and ipod). It's times like that when I'm glad we were created to have souls and bodies.ReplyDelete
Glad to know I'm not as crazy of a runner as I thought. I'm in good company. And are you saying you run without music???Delete
Ok, so I loved this post because you shared what goes on during a run. I have always wondered how runners (YOU!!) do it, how they stay focused and if they ever feel as sluggish as I do when I try a measly jog. Thank you for sharing it. I don't feel quite so bad now when I TRY to run on the treadmill, find myself looking at the distance and time a bazillion times, my mind racing asking myself why on earth I am doing this and trying to keep myself going. And, like you, taking the time to write blog posts in my head,eventhough most of which never get published.ReplyDelete
And lastly, I do so love coming to comment form and finding that Phil has left a comment. I always get a good chuckle. You two are so cute :)
Phil ALWAYS has a comment, he just doesn't always type it out for the world to see ;) And as for running on the treadmill - it's from the devil. Go outside - that's from God :)Delete
I loved to hear about your run. It inspired me to run tonight. No cat calls, but I'd take what I could get no matter what age group they're from.ReplyDelete
Ha! How about one from me? "Whoa, looking good lady!!!"Delete
You made my day reading this post. I kept chuckling and Steve wanted to know what I was looking at. I loved that bunnies made you think of nfp. Do Americans seriously drink that early in the day? I wonder if I took up running early in the morning if I would see Australians drinking beer.ReplyDelete
I hope they weren't really drinking beer, but they were drinking from beer-like bottles, and sort of painted the picture of guys who would.Delete
You nailed it. My first mile has always been filled with self loathing and an uncooperative body. My alter ego kicks in at mile 2.ReplyDelete
Ooooh, an altar ego - that's exactly what it is! I should give mine a name like Beyonce did with Sasha Fierce :)Delete
I also have plenty of talk going in my own head. And no matter how long or short I'm always done just prior to being actually done (in my head). Then I wonder how did I run 6 yesterday whan today I can only run 4. It never matters the number, I always feel that way. In other words, I never go for a run and say I think I'll run two more. NEVER.ReplyDelete
Love how the hubs chimmed in. Fun.
Oh, also get creeped out when I see the same vehicle more than once.
No way your first cat call. Probably just the first one you heard when while you had good ol' Alan Jackson all cranked up!