I’ve been doing the C25k program for many weeks now. I’ve hit a few bumps in the road but I refuse to give up. I read a post while ago about how there is no wagon and it really stuck with me. Regardless of how many false starts I have I am determined to get healthier.
Lately I’ve been really sporadic about making it to the gym. My training log over at the dailymile proves this. (Are you on there? We should totally be friends!) I’ve figured out that if I pack my gym bag before going to bed I don’t have an excuse to “forget” it. Today I had my bag here at work and I almost didn’t go. I’m tired. I’m crampy. I don’t want to. But you know what? I went anyway. I’ve decided that if I get to the gym and after running an interval if I really don’t want to be there I can leave and not feel bad about it. I figure that if I still don’t want to be there after walking over there, getting changed and running then I will probably stay and get the workout done.
Today I almost left. I did three running intervals and wanted get off the treadmill! I decided that I’d walk the next interval and see how I felt when I heard the prompt to run. I ran, albeit slowly but I finished the interval feeling strong. When the next prompt chimed I decided to pick up the pace. I normally run about 7.5km/h but I decided to try 9.6km/h. This felt huge! I’ve never run that fast before. I know that there are people running much faster than that but for me this almost felt like a sprint. I felt the treadmill pass my usual running pace. I only had to do this for 60 seconds. At some point I hit a spot where my brain started to complain.
“This is hard! I can’t do this! I want to stop. I can’t stop now! I can finish this! Holy shit! I am doing this!”
I finished the run huffing and puffing but it didn’t kill me! The chime for the last running interval rang and I ran at the same faster pace again! Again I reached the same point where my mind started to complain but I shoved the voice down, hitched up my falling down pants and carried on. I finished the last run wanting to laugh/cry! I felt ridiculously proud. It’s not like I did anything really fantastic. I just decided not to stop. The rush of emotions and endorphins was overwhelming.
It’s over an hour later and I’m still feeling the buzz. Before I ran today I was judging myself for not sticking to the program but I realize that it’s ok to tailor it to meet my needs as long as I’m moving forward. Slow and steady with bursts of speed. I’m listening to my body and it’s humming with happiness.
It is so predictable. Life throws me a speed bump and I stop taking care of myself the way I should. I stop going to the gym because I was home with the kids. I sleep funny and wake up barely able to get out of bed my back hurts so much. I stop eating, grasping for something, anything that I feel I can control.
Last night’s sleep disruption left me feeling like a zombie and not the good kind of zombie. I’m irritable, short tempered and my potty mouth is outrageous!
Conductor please stop the ride I want off. The urge to flee is becoming status quo. This has to stop. I can’t run away. I know that no matter where I go my problems will find me. I know that if I don’t take care of myself, then I cannot take care of anyone else. Last night I read my friend Mo’s latest entry and it left me shaken. I do not want to let myself deteriorate to the point that I am left so broken that my children have to care for me. (Mo, I say this in the least judgy way that I can, no offense to your mom)
This is me declaring again that I am going to take care of myself. I will pick myself up and keep moving. This pity party needs to be canceled forever. I’m getting my ass back to the gym. I’m going to find a yoga practice that I love. I am worth at least these first steps.
We did it! We’ve finally made it to the stage where we can read stories, kiss the kids goodnight and walk out of the room with them awake. My daughter will occasionally complain loudly (read whimper, whine, or cry) but if I tell them that I need to go potty, do laundry, or help Daddy they usually snuggle down and I don’t hear a peep from them. On night when my husband puts them to bed it’s even easier. Something about me being out of the house or “sleeping” makes it even easier for him to get them to bed.
I was really hesitant to write about this for fear that the sleep gods would scoff at my cockiness in writing this and throw us in to a massive sleep regression. But the thing I’ve learned is that there will always be sleep regressions. So please sleep gods, I’m not scoffing! Please consider this as a tip of my hat and let us carry on with this fabulous new routine.
Edited to add that tonight there was a false start in putting the kids to bed. I read stories and said I had to do some laundry and my daughter complained bitterly that I wasn’t there holding her hand. The husband went in to try to settle her but no dice. I went back in and sat with her for a few minutes and then said I had to go and it’s been silent ever since. Thank you sleep gods!
