So I'm back to 5k training. Sigh. Once upon a time I could run almost the whole 3 miles and then . . . and then . . . I don't know. I just stopped. Periodically I would feel enough shame to take myself down to the gym and run some on the track or treadmill. I can still run for about 2 minutes, or almost a quarter mile. Humiliating as that is, I remember back to the first 5k training and running for 1 minute was almost impossible, so at least I'm not back at Square One.
I went down to the gym last night, and all full of motivation, I hopped on the treadmill. I got my 5k app running, my Spotify workout playlist going, and then realized that the gym has gotten new treadmills and I didn't even know how to start the dumb thing. Not wanting to look more stupid than I'm sure I already did (people of a certain weight and age really shouldn't wear running tights) I fumbled around for a while, trying to look like I knew what I was doing, until I accidentally started the thing up. Thankfully it starts very slowly so I didn't get sucked off the back. That would have been terribly impressive, running tights and all.
So yesterday was to run for 1 minute and walk for 90 seconds (stop laughing at me. I know my shame), repeated 8 times. It went very well, I stepped off the treadmill 30 minutes later happy, proud of myself, and perhaps a little cocky. I told Addie on the way home that training this time wouldn't be as bad as last time, and we laughed about the frozen vegetables bags on my legs back then.
I knew that Thursday's aren't good for me gym-wise, and I had to come home from work early today because our satellite needed readjusting, so I thought, "Hey, yesterday went so well, I'll go back for Day 2 today!" despite knowing from past experience that back-to-back training days are a bad idea. But I was confident.
Turns out 2:30 is a great time to be at the gym. It is pretty much empty and, more importantly, I got a great parking spot. So I got on my treadmill, started it successfully and without humiliating myself, started my app, started my Spotify, and I was off. I did just like I did yesterday: walk at 3.6 mph, then jog starting at 5.1 mph and increasing that jogging speed on each run to max out at 5.8 mph. It went perfectly yesterday, so it would go perfectly today too, right?
Well, mostly yes. It went fine until the last run. 60 seconds has never been so long. I kept telling myself if it didn't end soon I was going to throw up. I wanted to turn down the speed. But I held on to the end (the end of that WHOLE 60 seconds - stop laughing at me) and was pleased with myself. I shared the workout to Facebook for accountability purposes, and went to get stuff to wipe down the treadmill.
I couldn't walk. My knees almost buckled just stepping off the belt. "Great," I thought. "I'm going down here in a heap, and I'm still wearing these ridiculous running tights." But somehow I hobbled over and got the machine wiped down. Next problem: walking down the stairs. There's an elevator right there. Why didn't I take it?
The silver lining was that I coincidentally had a massage scheduled for 3:00. Thankfully, Vanessa would save me. And she did. She always does.
And she didn't even act offended with all the sweat.
That's true friendship.
And now it's 8:00 and I'm back to feeling fabulous.
But maybe that's because of the Cadbury mini eggs I can't stop eating.
6 hours ago