Declaring Independance

I don't run.

That's what I thought of myself.  Just the way some people say, "I don't ski", I believed of myself that I don't run (unless in the presence of zombies, though I could be compelled to run toward chocolate).

Funny how we have to re-frame our beliefs about ourselves from time to time.  

I still can't say, "I run," in the pure sense of the word.  I hobble, sure.  I do a very hoppy-walk, maybe, but you couldn't really call it running.  Its more like a frazzled housewife stumbling across hot coals.  My friends Danielle and Kathy don't seem to mind, though.  Even though in a zombie invasion they could leave me in the dust as an entree, they let me set the pace when we have been out training.

On the 4th of July I "ran" (air quotes) my first 5K.  We had been using the Couch2-5K phone app for training, but hadn't gotten to the end of the training guide before race day.  I just told myself not to worry about it, because ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING I did in this race would be better than my efforts in the past.  Still, I had only done 2 miles in one shot, and that was with some structured 90 second breaks.  Oh, well! Too late now, it was go time. 

We headed over to the park at about 20 minutes before the race was to start, but as we approached the school, a horn went off... ten minutes early!   It was anticlimactic for sure, but all was not lost.  We got close to the start and joined the crowd as it poured out into the street.                    

Now, because "I don't run", I have only ever heard about the mysterious responses the body has in these settings.  There is a supposed adrenaline rush to speed you along your way.  Ha.  Yah, for like 30 seconds.  It was no time at all before my body was protesting the running, and telling me I was supposed to still be in bed.  "Hel-lo!!! Duh, it's a holiday!" my calves informed me.

About a century into the run some wise guy thought it would be keen to put up a "MILE 1" sign, and about four miles later a "MILE 2" sign.  Not helpful.  What the first sign actually said was, "Hey loser, you aren't even half way! Nanny-nanny!" and the next said, "Caution: 90 year old pushing a stroller passing you on the left".

My left leg grew heavy and achy.  I could hear the voice of my friend Andrea who has MS, in my head saying, "It's hard, but I am good at doing hard things."  I told myself that Danielle and Kathy thought I could do it (even if I didn't think so).  I thought about laying on a radiology table as Dr. F. pushed tools through my blood clots and inflated balloons in my veins while I suppressed tears of intense pain.  "This is easy compared to that," I told myself.  I may say it too many times here, but I thought about the blessing to have been given this opportunity, and this time my tears were just pure joy.  

There were, on occasion, perfect strangers who were calling out encouragement, and I kinda' wanted to hug them, even though it certainly couldn't have been for me.  It was like they could hear the crazy lady in my head telling me to lay down in the gutter and cry. 

 "Keep going!" they said.

"You're not a runner!" insisted the crazy lady.

"You're doing it!!!" they smiled.

"Gutter!!!!" said Crazy.

"Go!" cheered my new best friends.

The last half mile of the run followed the 4th of July parade route, and was speckled with people who had surely been paid to line the way.  Even though I felt embarrassed to be seen running in the light of day (all of my running-from-zombies takes place at night), I didn't care by that point.  Besides, there were people in tutus passing me up, nobody cared about me.

Nobody, until right at the finish, where I saw my hubby running backwards with a camera, and the Littles and Middles yelling, "Yay, Mama!!!  Go, Mama!!!"

"You did it, Dear!" Guy called, and I realized I was at the finish.  Guy walked through the finish line and put his arms around me.  Anybody looking would have seen us both in tears, and probably thought, "Geez, it's just a 5K, not a marathon!"

I guess that depends on how you look at it.

"... My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.  Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." -Corinthians 12:9

Running Joke (did you hear the one about the mom...?)

I have a little secret.  No, it's not that I'm a millionaire (wouldn't that be awesome? I would totally get a maid).  Nor that I work for the CIA as a spy (...or do I?).

Nope.

My secret is that I am trying harder, harder than almost ever.  You see, I am excellent at starting and stopping (my email drafts folder would make a professional procrastinator drool).  But I started something a while ago, and it's getting kinda serious.

Hold on to your girdles, girlies.  I've started running.  Not just to the bathroom when I sneeze. And I don't wear pantyhose, 'cuz, ew, so no, no runs there.  About two-ish years ago the fam was sitting around talking about things we'd like to do someday and I said, out loud, that I had been thinking about running a 5K.  Well, Ethan said, "Yeah, like that's gonna happen," or something equally supportive.  Of course, once he said that, I had to do it, right?  The "just-you-wait-and-see" gene runs deep in my family. 

About 5 days later I learned about our little impending bundle of joy.  So, yeah.  Hello, back burner, meet pipe dream. 

Well, fast forward to last December and my post-Christmas blood test, when the lab tech that usually takes my blood pointed out in her it's-okay-to-be-rude-if-you're-from-another-country way that I had gotten nice and chubby for the holidays. Nothin' like a foreigner callin' ya' a fatty to get ya' to kick you into gear.  I cut out carby crap and desserts and exercised with Kathy 5 days a week, and I lost 8 or so pounds in about 2 months.  I realized that if I really put my mind to it, I could lose a lot more before summer; before a family reunion and a gathering to reunite with old friends.  I had plans, baby!

I began talking to my friend, Danielle, who had been losing weight and doing lots of fun runs.  She was so helpful.  Before I knew it, we were exchanging daily emails of support, I was logging all my food, and, most surprising to me, running.

I didn't tell my family at first.  You know, escape clause.  Cause once you say it out loud, ya' gotta do it.  When I finally did tell on myself (with a little help from Francine (hi Francine!) who accidentally spilled the beans), nobody really seemed to care.  Ethan didn't even remember uttering his little Anti-5k slander. Maybe they don't believe me yet. 

Anyway, here I am, about 10 weeks later.  I am running three times a week with Kathy and Danielle.  It's really hard.  I'm using the Couch to 5K app on my phone, and am up to two miles run-walk-running.  I stagger for the first block, and mostly schlep-step for the rest.  We go at night so only really obnoxious dogs see us, and I bark back (yep, Jackie, I bark.  I learned more in college than just really boss fencing moves).  It's  crazy hard, but I'm doing it.

As of last week, I have officially lost (wait for it)...zero pounds and zero ounces!

Now, if you think it would be a good idea to leave a note in the comments section that tells me that muscle weighs more than fat, I may have to hurt you.

So don't.

It's okay though.  'Cuz I am running.  And I am getting a little better each time.  And it's... fun-ish.  I mean I wouldn't pick running over, say, being deloused...okay, maybe I would... but I don't hate it.  Anyhoo, I am doing it.  And getting stronger.  And I may or may not lose any weight, especially while I am still nursing, but I am wrapping my brain around the idea that I can do this because it is good for me to be strong and healthy, at any weight.  I mean, when I help a woman in labor I tell her that the number of her dilation only tells one small part of the story; effacement, station, position, length/strength/frequency of contractions, and other things that can't even be measured are happening in addition to dilation.  Even if that number hasn't changed, there are so many other signs of progress.  My body is and will continue to be changing.  It can't not change.

And a stronger body means less chance of another blood clot. Maybe that's what I'm running from. 

 I signed up yesterday for a 5K on the 4th of July.  Yikes!  I was really feeling awkward at the thought of running by the light of day (I prefer to run in the cover of darkness; less jiggle-vision), and then I learned that the route for the race follows ALONG THE PARADE ROUTE, just before the big town 4th of July parade!

What have I gone and done?

I have a little over a month to practice, and you know what they never say, but really should: practice makes progress.

(Look who's turning one today!!!). More on that soon!)

Programs I'm using on my phone to keep me motivated:

Couch 2 5k

Map my run

My fitness pal