I have talked at length about my love for running. I talked about how I've run marathons, half-marathons, 10Ks, 5Ks. It is different to be someone who used to run marathons. It's a feeling that looks like a deflated balloon. I have felt good, over the last couple of months, slowly building miles and endurance. It is not the best experience ever every time my shoes hit the pavement.
Last Friday was a perfect example of that.
I typically run at night. Usually, I head out the door for a run as soon as Brian hits the door on his way home. It's the perfect time of day for me. My head hurts thinking about getting up at 4:30 for a run. Any later than 7:00 PM and it starts getting dark. I live in a good neighborhood but I don't like running when I can't see into hidden corners.
There are times, though, that I need to vary my routine. Friday night I was heading out to a friend's house so I couldn't go running when Brian came home. No problem, I figured, I will drop Bekah off at preschool, toss Doug in the jogging stroller and off I go. I have done this one or two times and it's been fine. However, I forgot to take into account that previously I had a lot of walking breaks in my running program. (I'm following the 8-week program on the Running for Weight Loss Pro app. It started out with a lot of run/walking but has morphed into all running.)
Doug weighs almost 30 pounds. The jogging stroller is a few years old so it's not as lightweight as it could be, but it's still better than a typical stroller. Easy peasy, I thought.
Wrong. Apparently, there's a huge difference walking a 30-pound infant in a jogging stroller and jogging with said infant. I do everything I can to edit the run in a way that minimizes hills. I'm just not there yet. Maybe next summer it will be a different story. Even so, there are a few low-grade hills. They are mildly challenging when jogging on my own. Pushing Doug felt like I was trying to hike Everest with no oxygen. I was out of breath and worse yet my quads were screaming at me.
The program uses intervals to increase endurance and boost weight loss. I'm not a sprinter by trade but I like to push myself now and then. I don't run fast (typically a 13:30 min/mile) but am running faster than I was last year (15:30 min/mile). I just heard from a friend that running between a 10:00 min/mile and 12:00 min/mile is optimum. I hope, by next spring, to get close to that.
On a good day, when I have to sprint at 100% of my maximum intensity I have good form, arms pumping by my side, long strides, good breathing. Friday, however, I was lucky to get to 75% of the intensity for either the 80% or 100% portions. It didn't help that the air was heavy, but the heavy air combined with the heavy infant spelled doom.
I have been shooting for 3 running days a week. On the other days, I pop in a Leslie Sansone DVD and sweat in front of my TV. I even rest some days. I was never more grateful to be done with a run than I was on Friday. It's outings like that when I start to doubt my ability as a runner. I start to doubt that I will ever again be Sue Carbajal, marathon finisher.
And then I stop for a minute. The beauty is, I will always be Sue Carbajal, marathon finisher. Just because I'm fighting to get back to finishing a 5K doesn't mean I've been stripped of my previous finishes and accomplishments. After I finished my first Chicago Marathon in 2004, I had my picture, my bib and my medal framed. It hangs over Doug's changing table as a constant reminder to me that I am more than capable.
I have never met any elite runners. To me, anyone who runs faster than a 10:00 min/mile over long distances (greater than 3 miles) is an elite runner. I don't know if I'll ever get there myself and that's okay. Elite runners put their pants on the same as I do--one leg at a time. I'm sure that even they have runs that don't go exactly as planned. It probably frustrates them as much as it frustrates me.
Luckily, the story doesn't end there. I got organized today and had dinner ready for everyone before Brian got home. I had to fight to get out the door, as usual. Jeremy likes to try and sneak out with me. I've learned the hard way that the kids don't run in the traditional sense. They run at continental drift pace while exploring nature and complaining about tired legs. Not my style. I fought my way out and was rewarded with a great run.
The air was crisp and dry, the temperature was cool but not cold and my clothes all stayed in place. (This has become an issue because none of my performance wear fits anymore. The 40-pound weight loss has made me too small for all of it which is great but my lack of funds means that I am struggling to find things to wear while running. Currently it's either a worn-out pair of sweatpants or a worn-out pair of cotton shorts with a rip in the one leg.) My sprints were great, I wasn't huffing and puffing and I finished strong. I got home to find some peace with the kids, sat down to a great meal of pork pad thai (homemade, yum!) and reminded myself that I will always be Sue Carbajal, marathon finisher. In the words of the Gershwin brothers, "they can't take that away from me."
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