How I Ran The Boston Marathon

Last Monday, I got up off the computer to go for a run, around 10 in the morning. Lo and behold, when I looked outside there was snow on the ground. This should not have been a surprise, since this has been the shittiest spring we've had in years. It has been cold and wet and altogether NOT spring-like....I can be forgiven for being offended by snow on the ground on April 18th. I know we live in Canada, but come on.

I hate running in the snow; my shoes get wet and my feet get cold and I have to mince along like an 18th century dandy so as not to fall on my keester. I suited up to run on the treadmill in the basement.

Just as I got myself on and warming up, I turned on the tv and hey, the Boston Marathon was just starting; the top-ranked women were literally at the starting line waiting for the gun to go off. I was psyched! I paced myself with the front runner and was totally inspired! This was great! I am the laziest creature ever made: I don't stand when I can sit, I don't sit when I can lie down. I hate a challenge and couldn't care less if I lose a contest. I will happily and cheerfullly let myself off the hook at every possible opportunity. As you can imagine, motiviation to exercise is a constant problem.....I would happily stay in bed for the rest of my life. So you can appreciate my delight at a diversion that actually made me want to run. (Let's be very clear about one thing: I have no desire whatsoever to actually run a marathon. When you start running, people will ask you all the time if that is why you've taken up the sport. My reply usually "I'd rather chew off my own arm and beat myself to death with it.")

The race was brisk, but not impossible. The woman who ran out in front of the pack was toddling along at a most acceptable pace, and I was running right along with her! Of course, I had no hills and no wind to contend with, while she had both. And I had a glass of water beside me. And I could stop at any time and no one was watching me. And although I was keeping pace with Kim Smith, I was pretty sure that I couldn't last more than about 20 minutes doing this; she had to keep it up for another 2 hours.

After I gave up, having given it my all for a whole half hour I showered and changed and watched the rest of the race with a Diet Coke and a bag of Cheetos.

And that is the story of "How Mrs. Loudshoes Ran the Boston Marathon".

Fall On Your Knees.

You know, sometimes I'm pretty sure the universe is sitting around, langorously blowing smoke rings, and looking down on me saying "really, that girl is getting too full of herself. Let's remind her of exactly who is in charge".

Last Friday was an incredibly beautiful spring day here; warm without being too hot, sunny and bright, a silky cool breeze to keep everything in motion. With the Mister's aunt in the hospital, my evenings have been taken up the past week, and I had found no time for a run for ages. I was bound and determined that I was going running Friday morning, a good run too; no shortcuts, no slacking, no excuses. And lo and behold, I found myself actually enjoying that run! I couldn't believe it: I wasn't gasping for breath! My feet weighed their regular amount, no added lead! My hip joints were not threatening to go into business for themselves!! This wasn't so bad after all!!

Just as I came to the last few hundred yards before home, and I marvelled at my incredible self, my toe hit a bit of sidewalk that was sticking up, and I found myself body surfing the pavement. I went down like a runaway elevator. My knees took the brunt of it, breaking my fall with skin and bone, and then my hands and elbows wanted in on the party, and finally, my generous belly.

Picture it: a chubby, sweaty middle-aged woman rolling around on the sidewalk in the middle of the morning, wearing running shoes and bellowing obscenities at top volume. There didn't seem to be anyone around to witness my performance, but I'm pretty sure that even if there had been, they'd have kept out of sight.

I picked myself up, examined the damage with as much dignity as I could muster, and limped home with blood dripping down my legs. Luckily it wasn't far. The injuries were confined mostly to my knees, which were shredded, and a bit of wear on my hands and elbows. Bandaids were administered, and I walked with care for the rest of the day, but mostly, I was okay.

The next afternoon, the Mister and I had to go to a cocktail party. I went home after work and got changed to go, and put on a skirt, as the friction of pants on my knees was unpleasant. When we were in the car on the way to the party, the Mister asked if I was considering standing for the duration of the party. When I asked why, he glanced at my skirt, which had ridden up enough when I sat down to reveal my grubby, bloody bandaged knees. Very elegant. So I did stand up for the entire party, thank you.

Apparently, pride really DOES go before a fall.
Thanks, universe, for so eloquently and graphically teaching me that lesson.
I got it.

Exercise Sucks.

One more reason exercise sucks: shin splints.

I was running last night and at about the furthest point from home, my shins started to hurt. Nothing serious, just another in the myriad of aches and pains that accompany my usual runs...."oh, here come the hip pains! Nice to see you, guys, you usually don't show up until further along! And now the big toe on my left foot has decided to make itself known! I forgot you were there! Hello right knee! You really are a son-of-a-bitch, aren't you!"

I stopped to stretch out what I thought was a muscle cramp, but as I walked a bit, it got worse. And worse. And then hung around for another hour or so after I limped home. A diagnosis over the computer from Big Liver Girl (Also known as "Running Guru") confirmed my suspicion of shin splints.

I worked today, and a day on my feet made those shins ache a bit. So, naturally, what did I do after dinner? I went for a run. What the hell kind of idiot am I? (Answer: the Loudshoes kind....motto? "Let me see if that hurts as much this time".) But my friend Tracey wanted to go running, and my need for company and socializing FAR outweighs common sense or my physical wellbeing, as many a night on the town will attest.
They didn't bother me as much during the run, but as I staggered home from Tracey's house, I found myself breathing like I had when I was in labour. It was around this point that it crossed my mind that perhaps running tonight had not been the best idea I ever had. Because my shins were in labour.

A few ibuprophen and a bag of frozen peas on each shin for 15 minutes, and I was able-bodied once again.

I know exercise is good for me, I know it's all for the best, but really? Exercise sucks.

Things I Learned Today

• Coming home from work and finding dinner already on the go, AND freshly baked cupcakes waiting on the counter is about the most wonderful thing in the entire world.
• I can eat three cupcakes at a go, without pausing, and without shame.
• Eating three cupcakes in a row will give you heartburn.
• I really like running in cold weather. It's so much easier than running when it's hot out.
• Running when it's kind of dark is nice too....you can see inside people's houses. Makes it much more interesting.
• Two kleenex is not enough when you are running in cold weather. Normally, the entire contents of my sinus cavities is grimly determined to escape through my nose, but I found out when I run in the cold, there's an alarmingly hasty evacuation.
• I need to buy socks.
• When there is nothing to talk about, people will talk about the weather.
• Our new neighbours are very nice, and Chinese.
• Toby thinks he should not only get a treat when HE comes inside, he thinks he should when I do too.
• Full fat yogurt is, far and away, vastly superior to fat-free yogurt.
• I will get exactly the same number of compliments on my hair, regardless of the time or effort put into styling it.

Things I've Learned About Running

As I have mentioned recently, I've taken up running. I'm trying not to talk about it too much, as one of the Truths of This Life is that nobody really cares about what you ate yesterday, what you dreamt last night or how you exercised; like speeches at weddings, they only entertain the people involved.
But my running clinic, that I started at the beginning of June has just about finished its 10 week run, and so I think I'm allowed to give myself a bit of a pat on the back. Back when I started a few months ago, I was a heap of wheezy, sweaty yuck after 1 minute of running, and now I can do ten full minutes. I'm no less wheezy or sweaty, but at least I can do it.

So, in my admittedly short running career, these are the Things I've Learned About Running:

1. Running isn't easy, but it isn't that hard, either. At least, not nearly as hard as I thought it would be. It is entirely do-able.
2. Even though I took up running to lose weight, running isn't going to do it alone. What I put in my mouth has way more to do with my weight than how I exercise. But at least I can eat more or less what I want without gaining any more weight. I can live with that.
3. Running when you have a headache, a full stomach or the wrong underwear on is a very, very bad idea.
4. If it hurts, get it looked at. When I started, I was having trouble with some knee pain. Big Liver Girl, who is a real physiotherapist and not just another opinionated friend, hooked me up with some orthotics for my running shoes and they have been nothing short of miraculous. Way better than suffering through.
5. My running leader says "your feet will keep going as long as you tell them to". It is entirely true. They can and they will.
6. It may not feel great when you are doing it, but you will always be glad you did it.
7. My legs, which I have always been pretty good, look awesome now. I'm pretty sure I can see a suggestion of a waist now, too, which has been AWOL for about 15 years.
8. People look at you with a certain amount of respect when you say you run. Especially if you have been a notable slob of long-standing up until now.
9. You can spend way too much money on running gear, if you aren't careful. In fact, you can spend way more time reading about running and buying running gear and talking about running rather than actually running, if you put your mind to it.
10. Water is the most wonderful substance in all of God's green earth.

Just Do It.

At Thing 1 and my running class on Monday evenings, the usual format is to have a short talk for half an hour, and then we go out and run with the group. Last week we had a physiotherapist talk to us about how to exercise to avoid injuries and such. He was very good; informative, concise and very helpful. This week's talk was about motivation, which interested me very much. I am a classic case of unmitigated sloth, and I hate a challenge. I've spent my life getting beyond that, so the guy who came to talk to us on Monday had my undivided attention.

He spoke well enough about what motivated HIM, but that actually has little bearing on MY circumstances. (I guess the idea is that I hire him on a more formal level, and pay his fee, to figure that one out.) He talked about competition, and using your own need to win to make you work a little harder. That does nothing for me; I think I am the most uncompetitive person God ever made. You want to beat me at something? Go ahead, I couldn't care less. In fact, I'd probably not even notice.
At one point he said how important it was to give yourself a goal to work for. I asked how you managed to keep that goal as a goal, because I have no problem whatsoever in changing the goal according to my whim. I can say I want to run for 5 straight minutes, but I can just as easily decide that 4 is A-okay by me. (The Loudshoes family motto is "That'll do".) And his answer? "Well, you just have to." Really? THAT'S the big motivational talk? Are you kidding me?
(Maybe I should become a motivational speaker and spout words of wisdom like "Don't give up" and "You can do it!"I could branch out and write a best-selling diet book called "Maybe You Shouldn't Eat That", and a financial book called "Stop Buying Things You Can't Afford". I'd make millions!)

I went out and ran with the class, and it was really hard, but I paid good money for it, so I did it anyway. So, I guess I have figured out what motivates me: Money. And pride. And the thought of a nice cold glass of Riesling when I get home. I think those could motivate anyone.

Nothing to Lose But My Dignity.

I've been running for 6 weeks now. (There's a sentence I never thought I'd say.) Six weeks of running every twenty to thirty minutes, six days a week. My knees don't hurt any more, and I can walk down the stairs without wincing, and even if I'm not running the whole time and I'm a wheezy, gasping mess most of the time, at least the little black dots have stopped swimming in front of my eyes after a few steps. I do seem to be slowly getting better at it.

One of the reasons I took up running is to lose some weight, just a few pounds would make me happy. (Mostly, I'd love to be able to eat the way I want to eat and not have to think about it too much.) And guess how much I've lost since I started running???

Nothing. Not one pound. I'm not exaggerating in a "I've lost a few pounds but I thought I'd lose more" kind of way. No, I am exactly the same weight as when I started 6 weeks ago. I haven't lost so much as a couple of ounces. This pisses me off like you wouldn't believe. When I have ranted about this to anyone who will listen, I inevitably hear the "but muscle weighs more than fat, so you must be building up muscle" song, but they can sing that to the wad of fat around my middle that gleefully yells "bullshit" every time it comes up. Perhaps it comes with being fair, female and over 40, but I'm pretty sure that wad of fat has taken up permanent residence, and has no intention of letting a little exercise persuade it to move along any time soon.

I'll keep running. (I still have 7 weeks left in my running class, after all.) But if I don't see some improvement in my body, I'm going to be really mad. And then I'm going to run while yelling and ranting full tilt the whole time. Maybe that will burn off a few more calories.

In The Running

I seem to have taken up running.
I know. Nobody's more surprised than me. I'm positively allergic to exercise and I hate sweating. I don't stand when I can sit, and I don't sit when I can lie down. I take naps for fun. The only part of my body that I voluntarily move is my eyeballs when I am reading, and my forearm to bring the beverage of choice up to my mouth.
So, believe me, this decision to run was not taken lightly.

I came to the conclusion that, if I want to eat the way I want to, I'm going to have to move around a little more, lest I become the size and shape of the couch I occupy. And if there's one lesson I've learned from my parents and the generation before me, it's that if you don't use it, you will lose it; sloth makes aging considerably more difficult. So, I did some research to find out what would give me the most bang for my exercising buck, and running came up trumps.

I used to go to a gym, I tried several gyms, in fact, and I hated them, loathed everything about them. I spent the entire time working out shreiking at myself in my head, "come on, ten more minutes on this freaking horrible treadmill, keep going, keep going, is that ten minutes, OH MY GOD, it's only been two minutes, stop being such a wuss, keep walking damn it, I want to stop NOW when will it end???" It was exhausting. And the people who worked at the gym, who were decidedly puzzled at my lack of enthusiasm, would inevitably suggest going to a class, like somehow organized, scheduled torture was more appealing. And for this I paid forty bucks a month. Finally, when the kids and I went to the beach one day and I had to scale a considerable sand hill and I was wheezing and gasping like a chain-smoking geriatric, I decided that the gym was doing me no good at all, and I quit.

After a little asking and thinking, I decided that running included putting on a pair of shoes and walking out my front door and just running until I wanted to come home. Even I can manage twenty minutes out my day for that. And so I have, for a month now. And although I can't say I love running, I certainly don't hate it, which is huge for me. At least the shreiking in my head is quiet enough.