So I went for a run. Well it started off as sitting at a picnic table at a campsite near Lake Huron and staring at my dirty old sneakers. I thought, if there was a time and place to begin my journey and train for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure, this is certainly a magical place to start. And by starting my training, I mean get off my butt and move faster than a drunken sloth and get the heart rate going.
This initial run would be a test. This was not really a part of my official yet to be established training program. I wanted to see how bad I would feel running longer than to catch my morning subway train. I wanted to see how the various parts of my body would feel. Would my lungs burn? Would my calf muscles lock up? Would my moobs leap up and strike me in the chin? So, I laced up my shoes, grabbed my Ipod and headed off to the beach.
It started off almost perfect. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, waves were lapping up against the shore and, I kid you not, grandparents were walking their young children along the beach to collect rocks. It was a choice moment. And I seized it.
My brisk walk turned into a slow jog as I would pick items of interest on the beach – driftwood, a forgotten sand castle, a cracked red pail – and try to jog to these landmarks without returning to a walk. I did this for about 20 minutes before seeing a large pretzel of driftwood way down the horizon and decided this would be my halfway point and a test of my body’s now waning energy.
Well, I made it to the driftwood, but it was a struggle. I figured I ran for only about two minutes, which is embarrassing to write, but without transparency, I am nothing… (dramatic pause…)
It hurt. Mostly my lungs as cardio was never a strong suit of mine, but my thighs and hips started to ache and this was on a beach, so the impact of hard sand is less than it would be on pavement or cement. I looped around the driftwood and made my way back. Admittedly my goals were shorter, but I was feeling a bit light headed so I kept my return to beach entrance to a brisk walk, with the occasional blips of slow jog.
When I returned to the campsite, everyone was still asleep. I was drenched in sweat but I kept my shirt on until my sister erupted from her tent in a slumber grog. She noticed my two toned shirt and smiled.
You went? She asked.
Yep. I smiled.
She smiled back and headed off to the bathroom. You never get too old for your sister’s approval. Especially one that has agreed to join the UrbanMom’s CIBC Run for the Cure team and started training for it back in May!
Since returning to the city, I am going to start one of the many of the couch to 5km programs that are easily accessible on the Internet. They all seem to be similar in their increased run to walk ratio as time progresses. The one I have chosen is built around getting out three times a week, that seems more realistic to me than trying to run everyday.