A little more than a year ago, I couldn’t run a mile without stopping. I was ridiculously overweight and out of shape. I made a goal of running an 8k in November (my first ever race) and I stuck to it. I finished in less than an hour – an amazing feat for me. And I was hooked.
In May, I followed up with a 5k in just over a half hour.
I was really proud of myself for running those races. I know that “real” runners will look at those times and shrug, maybe even giggle, but I don’t care. It’s not about anyone else. It’s about me. And being a better me.
I’m in much better shape than I was a year ago. I’m still a chubby girl and I still limp behind SuperNanny when we run (insert grumbling and swearing here). But I feel better and stronger. And that’s what is important.
I have another race coming up – this one in Oaks, PA, on next Saturday. My goal for this 5k isn’t so much to improve my time as it is to run a smoother race. I have a tendency to run unevenly – fast bursts and then stops. My plan is to run an even race – fingers crossed.
The next race? If you’ve been reading, you know it’s the half marathon. You also know that I signed up – like a great big idiot – when my good friend said that I couldn’t do it. I can’t bear a challenge like that, so I signed up that day. Again, great big idiot. But now, the framework has been laid and I have to move on it. Finish or not, I’m in.
So, I’ve been training but it’s been difficult to plan lately. Crime against single women joggers has increased in the park, so finding a running buddy and/or a busy time of day to run has not been easy. And finding time for the Y? Nearly impossible.
This past week, we went on vacation. I thought about skipping running altogether but I didn’t. I got up every morning and took a short run. I have to admit – it was hard but I felt great. It was a little odd to be running in a new place – I worried about the wildlife and other people’s dogs, mostly. On yesterday morning, my fears came true… nearly. I was making my way down a lonely country road in Maine and I heard the sound of jingling. I glance back and I see a big, black dog bearing down on me.
Damn it, damn it, damn it. Dogs are one of my biggest fears. And yes, I have a dog. But he’s the first dog that I ever had. And I got him because Chris was allergic to cats and I missed my cats. But I grew to love him. And Lyle (my big, black dog) has helped me understand dog behavior a lot more. I’m much more comfortable around dogs now. But not completely comfortable. So when I saw this dog out of the corner of my eye, there on that road all by myself, I almost panicked. I summoned all of the courage to muster and I turned around to yell “GO HOME!” at the dog. My dog. Yes, the big black dog that was bearing down on me was my own dog. He had escaped from the cabin and chased me down about 3/4 mile.
He clearly needed to go home. But getting a 75 pound dog down a strange road without a leash isn’t all that easy. So I tried to maneuver him back home. He thought I was playing. He was delighted.
Despite the fact that we live in the City, Lyle isn’t that great with cars. When he gets walked in the park, he doesn’t see them. So he doesn’t know how to act when he sees them – other than to walk out in front of them and kind of dare them to go around him. And as luck would have it, not one, not two, not three but four cars and trucks came down that otherwise nearly unused road at that time. It was a struggle to keep him off the road. I finally chased him down and apologized to the woman who had to stop her car for him – she looked at me and said, “Are you chasing him?” I tried to explain what happened but it was tough – Lyle was roaring to go.
Lyle is fast. Really fast. At one point, when I let him go, I looked down at my watch. I was running a mile at an 8:30 pace – just over 7 mph (not a realistic pace for me at all) – and Lyle was leaving me in his tracks. He was hundreds of feet down the road already. When I caught up with him, he looked at me like “What?”
This, for a ten year old dog. He’s in crazy good shape. And he loves to run. He may just be my new inspiration.
So this morning, I put him on leash and tried to take him out running. It hasn’t worked in the past – he’s too easily distracted to run more than a half mile usually. But it worked okay this morning. My pace was off since he was pulling me and antagonizing skunks (fortunately, the spray missed us on two occasions). But it was oddly comforting to have him with me. And he loved being there.
Maybe this week, I’ll take the old man out with me in Philly.
