No, this is not part 3. No, I have not gotten around to writing about that yet. Yes, I am going to continue to let you squirm and wonder. Yes, I am milking this whole experience for all it is worth and dragging it out as long as I can. Deal with it.
To quote the ever-famous Andy from 40 Year Old Virgin... "Is it true that if you don't USE it, you LOSE it?"
Well, my friends, in the case of my mad running skills, it is INDEED true. As I mentioned in my last post, the month of December has been, well, let's just say "unhealthy." It has included, but is not limited to, 1) copious amounts of horribly unhealthy food, 2) allowing myself to drink more than 1 Michelob Ultra per sitting, 3) sitting on my ass for days at a time, 4) the extent of my exercise being to go back and forth between the couch and the fridge, and 5) a glazed-over, confused look if you mention the word "running".
If you are curious as to how this type of sloth-like behavior effects the body, fear not, for I shall share with you the truth behind the life of a complete lazy slob. I literally, completely not kidding, wish I could be lying, 100% sarcasm-free, girl scouts honor gained 10 full pounds over the past 2 months. On a midget like me, towering an amazing 5 foot 2 inches tall, THAT'S A LOT. Also, even the task of walking up 2 flights of stairs to my office at work leaves me out of breath, gasping, and flopping like a fish out of water. Pathetic. PATHETIC!
I won't bust out the big guns regarding my running goals for 2012 just yet, but OF COURSE I would get back into it. Though there were many times during the marathon that I swore I would never run again and would rather be forced to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair, we all knew that I am about as addicted to running as Charlie Sheen is to women/drugs/booze. OK maybe not THAT seriously addicted- I would not break the law or shame my family's name just to get a run in, but you get the point. So yea, I set January 2nd as the official "MOVE, BITCH" date. I decided I would start from scratch with my training- back down to 3 miles, completely start over, do it right, prevent injury from the beginning, etc etc etc. Smart, right?
Little did I know: my body forgot what running was. Completely.
Picture it... little Amy Mary, all dressed up in her fancy winter running gear, all decked out, equipped with a fancy new Garmin watch (thanks, Kev!), new runderwear (thanks, Mom!), with an extremely detailed plan written down in my new running diary (including tempo/speed runs, cross training, and strength training), feeling like I could conquer the WORLD. I take about 5 steps and my body is immediately like, "WTF! STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! GO BACK TO THE COUCH AND EAT ANOTHER BOX OF CHEEZITS! YOU FAT ASS, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING! STOP! STOP NOW! SERIOUSLY, STOP!!!!!"
Worst. 3. Miles. Of. My. Life.
Ok, 1 bad run, no big deal. So my legs felt like they had cement blocks tied to them. And my lungs literally burned like a smoker of 47 years. And I almost passed out. And I ran a 12 minute pace. Whatevs. It happens. Too bad this "1 bad run" turned into a string of about 10 bad runs.
After about 2 weeks of misery, I burned out. Totally threw in the towel. Was ready to swear off running forever. I was not enjoying it at all. It was a chore. I didn't look forward to it, and I didn't feel good after it. The pressure of my detailed, insanely in-depth, psychotic, freakizoid training plan ultimately took the fun out of it. I took 5 days off because, frankly, the thought of working out made me want to throw a brick at someone or something. How could I go from running a MARATHON to THIS?! No comprendo.
This past Wednesday, I was feeling especially antsy and anxious, and I needed SOMETHING to take my mind off life. So... I gave it another try. But this time, all planning went out the window. I set out with no distance, time, pace, or direction in mind. I just... ran. I still wore my Garmin, but rather than checking it every 30 friggin' seconds, I kept it under my sleeve and only checked it at the end to record my distance and time. And ya know what??? IT WAS AN AMAZING RUN. I did 5 miles and felt spectacular. I did the same thing yesterday and hit just under 6 miles. Feeling like Rocky. Arms in the air. Cheay, mutha f*cka.
Lesson learned: Quit setting unrealistic expectations, remove the pressure, and remember that I DO THIS FOR FUN. While, yes, I am training for races, turning this into a chore will not help me AT ALL in the long run (ha, pun). For other more experienced runners, this type of strict training regimen may be helpful, but for me, it just sucked all the fun out of it and turned me into a cranky asshole (keep your remarks to yourself, please).
So for those of you that think I fell off the face of the earth and was planning to ditch running and never blog again, I hate to break it to you, but I ain't goin' nowhere. More to come soon. I promise. Marathon Part 3. Soon. Seriously.
