Posted by: ableanna | March 18, 2008

Running

Been debating about whether or not I should discuss my new-ish passion for running. Reasons being solely based on my own previous reaction to anyone I knew who was a runner, which was THEY MUST BE CRAZY and INTO “S “AND “M” and CONTROL FREAKS WHO DO NOT KNOW HOW TO HAVE A GOOD TIME. Something like that, while I madly stubbed my cigarette out repeatedly in the ashtray.

Then I got pregnant. Which I amusingly found out about after I had spent my entire vacation feeling sick from one measly night of dining on French Cuisine, hot-tubbing, drinking wine, and chain-smoking while ironically arguing about what religion our hypothetical kids would/would-not ascribe to if, for some reason, we managed to stop the argument long enough to conceive them. Apparently we already had!

In summary, I gained 80 pounds.

Eventually about 10 months after I had my little girl, I had lost a good portion of the weight from breastfeeding and staring listlessly out a window, so I decided to take matters into my own hands to lose the last 20 pounds. I chose running because it was the easiest and the most accessible, even though a million excuses went through my head like, “I have bad knees” and “I hate running” and “RUNNERS ARE CONTROL FREAKS WHO DO NOT KNOW HOW TO HAVE A GOOD TIME”. Against all of my well-researched and fact-based opinions I decided to give it a try.

Starting is hard. All of your floppy bits flop around and the timer on the treadmill seems to work for a different time zone. In fact, for the first year, I think I would have chosen a kick in the pants over the gym every morning. But I went, because some part of me knew that I would feel better coming home and that small part of me is probably the only part of me that is generally right. However, that “runner’s high” that I heard about and read about never seemed to materialize (other than the three endorphins that decided to tag along with me after a run) to the point where my body would feel like it could just. keep. running. Ha ha! Stopping was always the premium choice. Until January.

On New Year’s Eve, after several glasses of wine, I made a bet that I could beat a family member in a half-marathon in October 2008 and all of the sudden I got serious about the whole thing. (Appealing to my competitive nature is the only way to get me to do anything i.e. don’t bother telling me to do the dishes, *bet* me that I could not get them done in half an hour and watch me go!) I began to run longer than half an hour and that’s when the “highs” started to kick in. They ARE amazing. Picture scenes from Rocky or Dirty Dancing – you know, any movie about those-who-think-they-can’t-and-then-they-do-it-anyway and when it ends, you (as the spectator) find yourself weeping and cheering so much that you’ve forgotten about the bowl of potato chips in front of you. That’s what those highs are like: I want to punch the sky and laugh and rip off all my clothes and cry all at the same time. Believe me, you do NOT want to sit with me at the end of those movies.

Anyway, the point of this is to explain why I have signed up for the a whole bunch of races this year which will most likely be talked about in future blog posts. So that’s it (for now). That’s my argument for The People vs. Runners Are Boring Control Freaks. Ok?

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Responses

  1. Wow! I’m in your boat- I gained 80 w/my first as well… and now am at that last 20 to loose… except I only dream of running. I’m a lazy turtle. I would be happy eating only lettuce if it meant I didn’t have to adhere to an exercise routine! Oh me!


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