This is a tough one. I just finished my morning jog/run torture. I've been trying for about seven months to work up to jogging and hopefully running 4 miles. I admit to not being able to tell the difference between jogging and running. To me, jogging just sounds less uncomfortable. I'd rather run because that sounds like I've accomplished something. I'm beginning to wonder if my body has other plans. I actually only need to run 5k, but I'll get to that in another post. I'll fill you in a little on the last seven months.
August of last year, I received an invitation from one of my younger, thinner, hipper girl friends. She'd been running with a friend from work, did I want to join them? This is interesting. The 7th grade school girl in me was so excited, I immediately made sure she was serious and wasn't going to leave me in the woods and live feed my cries of terror back to YouTube. She assured me--with a facebook emoticon smile--she meant it. So I started training for an opportunity to run 3 miles and some change--pretty much a 5k--and in the process, maybe acquire some much needed coolness--to look less like a potato in spandex and more like Gabrielle Reece. I could already walk/jog 3 miles on the treadmill in a little over an hour, but I really had no idea what was what. At the time of her invitation, my young friend was down to a 12 minute mile. For several months I kept to this regime. It didn't feel like I was getting any faster or my stamina was improving very much. I was eventually able to get the 3 miles within the hour mark and a few days I even brought it to 55 minutes. Still, I was overweight, out of shape and wondering if I wasn't just getting old. I didn't know how to push myself passed those messages from my brain that I was going to die that instant if I didn't stop. I knew I needed a plan. This plan needed to be designed to literally and psychologically get me from point A to point B. Gabrielle would need to wait.
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