It's been so long since I've blogged, (I've had time to grow a whole o t h e r human. Not Mouse, a second one.) that I don't remember if I've mocked Mr Snork's reading and implementing tips from a book called Born to Run. I don't even remember what the book was about, possibly a barefoot runner and a remote tribe of barefoot running people in Mexico - I can't say, but one thing that's come out of him reading that book is the title is forever stuck in my head. As in, Mr Snork is most definately NOT born to run. He's tried it barefoot, and with trail shoes, and with supportive shoes, .. and no matter how he tries, stuff always happens, blisters, cramps, mysterious pains, sprains, etc. Sometimes, he needs only to jog a block before one or several ailments nail him. NOT born to run. Not at all.
But, it's turned out that quite possibly, I WAS born to run. I think if I was less lazy and less into Scrabble in high school, and joined a track team, I'd be really good at it. As it is, I'm nothing special, except that, I can do it. Barefoot. In socks. In Zems. In New Balance Minimus, in Sketchers GoRun (favorite). Once I got going, at the tender young age of 28? 27? I've had very few issues with it.
Most recently, I took a year and a half off. I think. Littlest is 7 months. So, 7 months of her being here, and last 6 months of the pregnancy I have done zero things related to fitness. Eeeevery once in a while I would make an effort, but once you get out of shape, man.. it's just not there anymore. And once you grow out of your fitness clothes you have nothing to wear to the gym. Or outside. And you can't go to the gym naked.
So, I embraced eating every kind of thing, and lounging. And maternity clothing. I love maternity clothing. Pants that look like slacks but are actually elastic waisted? Stop it. Why wear anything else, ever.
And then, recently, I've been sort of trying to get back in shape. ONLY because while I adore my maternity clothes, it's a limited repertoire. And I have this whole giant closet of the "other' clothes. And the Lululemon skirts. I am pretty sure I can't afford to replace them all two sizes bigger. And, if I decided to have another baby, I feel like stacking a pregnancy on top of a really out of shape body might inspire me to just quit ever trying. Embrace my 5 month belly, and invest in eternal wardrobe of empire waisted things.
So, I've been attempting to run. And it's sucked every time. The second wind is not there, and the cardio isn't, and I'm bigger, so my knees complain, blah, blah. Also, STILL lazy, and very inconsistent and it's hard to build cardio when you go once every 2 months.
A little bit ago, Littlest turned 6 months, and I signed her up for the 24HourFitness KidsClub. Paying for two kids now, is almost as much as out membership, so I make it a point to go at least 5 times a month. To at LEAST break even. Because it would kill me if 24Hour got $ for free, and after all, since I checked out for the past 13 months (Mr Snork followed suit), really they made a great year off us. No more.
So I've gone 5 times, may be. Ran 3 miles each time. Last week, I ran 4 with OCRunClub. And this Sunday I ran a half marathon. That's 13.1 miles. That's 10 more miles than I've run anytime since more than a year ago. In something like 3:08. My Garmin says the actual 'moving' time was 2:49. Initially, I was hoping to be able to speed walk it just in time to avoid getting swept off the course.
AND. Not only did I do it, I only spent one day afterward feeling like my legs might actually fall off. I put those thing on ice, and crossed my fingers. Second day was just faintly sore. Third day (today) I feel just fine. And, a little bit great, because I'm so proud of myself.
It was really hard, and I was going to walk the 'rest of it' on and off from mile 6 on. I walked all of mile 12. And all, ALL aid stations. Which, bless Disney, there were quite a bit off. Just when you start to lose hope and faith in your feet, shoes, weather, and decisions in life, an aid station would crop up, with all the super nice people cheering and handing you water (or doughnuts), and all would be OK again.
At first, I thought I'd puke for sure. But then, it was the best thing. EVER.
The 'magic in every mile helps'. Vintage cars, hip hop dancers, cheerleading squads, etc, perk you up.
|Princesses along the way? Check|
|Motivational posters? Check.|
|Monkeys with cymbals? Check.|
13 months of lazy = lots of JoAnn's trips. A bolt of sparkly Piglet fabric in the closet? Check.
Piglet tried hard to bail a few times on the whole running thing, but every time, the rest of the group would slow down, wait up, and I'd feel like I could run again. Sometimes they'd trick me. Like, "hey, after that light pole, you could totally run". And it seemed like I totally could. Weird. Group running is key. A lone Piglet would have veered off course around mile 5, found a nearest InnOut, and would have called her husband to come get her.
Piglet has no resolve on her own..
I'm getting Mr Snork back into it with me. He's amazing as pit crew (shielding me from children while I sew, getting all my stuff charged and ready, and showing up at the finish line with a McGriddle), but I love it when we run together. Mostly, to talk sht, about how, he definately, was not born to run. But, possibly, and in light of recent events, very likely - I was. HA!
Best McGriddle ever had by a human being anywhere, ever.