So. Running. I've talked of it. Talked of how I hate it, as I tend to run into stationary objects plus have some weird Pavlov's Dog association of punishment with running. But strange things have been happening to me. I often don't want to go to the gym, so I've been running instead. I've not had time to do a full cardio workout, so I've been running. I am either too lazy/broke (gas prices!)/ inattentive to drive the 10 miles to the gym, so I've been running. Yes, I have been running a lot. It is sickening, for many reasons, but for one main one.
I like it.
I cannot run on a treadmill. When I am on treadmill *pause to get another Labatt* I tend to make deals with myself, such as: "I will only walk during this commercial break (Damn you cardio theatre! Just put Maury back on! You are NOT the Father!) or, " I will walk on a level-15 incline, then run," or "I ran 3 minutes, that's good." Throw me on some pavement, and I can run 3-4 miles (NO BULLSHIT!) but get me on a conveyor belt and I want to walk and fiddle with my iPod like it is going out of style.
So I've been running. And I enjoy it. I feel free, I feel relaxed. I push myself. I tell myself, "Make it to the post box, ok now make it to the street light, ok, Cari, just the stop sign." Next think I know I am running for miles, It's mindless and I can bullshit myself and push my body into a great workout.
I learned this week how great of a mind-clearing activity it is. Without going into details due to a respect for privacy,something horrible happened this week to someone I care about greatly and I consider a friend, and something that affected many people I care about. For a few days this week, I could not function. I was trying to process a situation that seemed unfathomable, and just shut down. However, yesterday, I decided to finally take the advice of a great friend, and decided to focus on what positives could possibly come of the situation and forget the negative as it was done. At the time, only one thing truly makes me happy at heart and clear my mind: Baking (And for those that don't know, I dropped my plans of getting a Business Master and am start Culinary school this month for Baking & Pastry.) But...dough takes time to rise. A beautiful, yeasty Calzone dough was rising on my back porch, and I wanted to wait an hour before punching it down. I needed to space out in the mean time.
So I went running. And I ran. Sort of freed myself from the ugliness I discovered in the world this week. When I was a quarter of a mile from my house, I turned around. And I was being chased!! A stocky person with a clompy gait was HOT on my trail. There is another Fat Person running in the neighborhood and they are following me! The chaser had a well-defined beer gut and was still managing to keep perfect pace with me. Wait...the chaser has two small buns in there hair. And chaser slows when I do. Chaser has well-defined yet strong calves and sloppy upper body use. Wait....that's not a chaser...
That's your shadow. And it's fat.
And that is when I realized it. Running makes me feel liberated. I don't realize that I am clinically-diagnosed Obese when I am running (Formerly Morbidly obese, soon to be just Overweight). I forget that I am a chronic smoker who should not be able to breathe. It slips my mind that there may be neighbors mocking the fat girl trotting down the street as she feels like a superstar. It frees me, but only until I look back and realize I am not thin and fabulous as I feel, and that there is a fat girl chasing me, taunting me to binge on Crisco with Bacos when I get home. Topped with cheddar cheese. Note: Cheese and Bacon make EVERYTHING better.
And so I want to become a runner. I confessed my desire to be a runner to my Husband, sprinting from the ever-approaching fat girl shadow with fabulous hair that was chasing me. I told him I wanted to set a finite running goal to keep myself honest- I want to run a marathon. He responds that he is no where near marathon shape and needs to train. He needs two to three months.
MONTHS!?!?! SERIOUSLY?!?! MONTHS!!!
Nonononono. Fat Girl needs two to three YEARS! I confess this to him. Next thing I know I agreed to run a half marathon in 2011 and a full one in 2012. And a big part of the dynamic of our marriage is 1: We hold each other accountable and 2: We challenge one another to constantly improve.
Damn. I am screwed.
We are planning to run as, "In Memory: Team Boris." Boris is our Hound Dog, and we figure he will have croaked by then as his vet routinely tells us he is a gastric bypass candidate. No matter what we do to cut his weight, he gains. To date he has figured out: How to open our fridge, how to get the deli drawer open in the fridge, how to open the lazy susan, how to open the pantry, and how to get sad, hungry dog eyes to get food. No matter how we ration and calorie count for him, he gains weight due to his craftiness.
And that is my story. Hold me accountable, Readers. In three years I am running a full marathon. Even if I die upon the finish line, I am doing it. I will succeed.
And if I don't, perhaps Boris's vet will give us a Buy-One Get-One on Gastric Bypass.