Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Day One: See (if) Charlotte Run(s)

Today is Day One.

I did my usual aerobic deal last night with my church girls (who I am SOOOOOOO proud of!) and looked back through some old photos. Holy Mother. Let's just say that I feel a zillion times better, look a zillion and one times better, and am ready to get on with the next phase of this Personal Journey I'm on.  Today, I officially start training for the 5K.

Now, 3.2 miles may not seem like such a big whoop to most of you, but to me it's one step short of amazing. I don't run anywhere. Not in the rain, not to the mailbox, not from a rabid dog. No way.

So, on that little paper I printed out for the Cool Running’s Couch-to-5K ® Program it says "Start with a brisk five-minute warm up walk. Then alternate 60 seconds of jogging and 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes." The five-minute warm up thing I'm totally down with. I'm well into 3 miles of walking on a regular. I'm also cool with 20 minutes of walking, since I'm already doing 45 solid minutes of double tough aerobic activity three times a week. But the jogging? I'm just hoping not to hyperventilate and pass out 30 seconds into the deal. I'm also praying not to go flying through the top level of the track, landing in a broken heap on the floor of the gymnasium. Seriously.

But the biggest obstacle in my way? The snooze button on the alarm clock. I'm a notorious last-minute sleeper. Getting up 30 minutes earlier than normal on purpose (and not for something like Disney World or a Twilight premiere) is going to be the Olympic hurdle that I've got to cross, and it starts far, far before the actual running part. I'm already pep-talking myself. I'm considering downloading some famous football coach half-time speeches to play if I start to weaken and slap at the snooze button.

I'd tell The Husband to get after me and remind me to get up, but he might be injured when I flip out and start flailing around in a Sister Sunshine fit. So, nix that. I'll just have to do it myself. (I'd like to stay married during this deal.What's the point in getting all fabulous if The Husband is mad at me for dotting his eyes for doing what I asked him to do in the first place?) (This is the definition of Irony, class.)

Since I don't want to be another anecdote in a sermon, I'm going to get up in the dark, stretch, and take one more step on the road to becoming the best me I can me. And with that, it's officially time to sign off since I'm starting to sound like Daily Affirmation with Stewart Smalley or like an Oprah episode (gak) when I'm shooting for the Rocky theme.


Alarm clock: one
Charlotte: zero

Nah, if I'm being truthful, it's all The Husband's fault. He's smarter than I am. Last night when I was moaning about getting up early and not being totally sure I'd do that for 12 weeks straight, he said, "So, why don't you just run at the same time you normally do aerobics? Like, in the afternoon/evening."


Getting to see the sunset is more my style. This is why he isn't "a husband", he's "The Husband". :-)

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