Run, baby, Run

*not me*

So remember a while back when I talked about running and pain and shoes and triathlons and all that good stuff? Well, to be perfectly honest, it was great to talk about and I really truly want to be a triathlete some day, but it was so far beyond my comfort zone and beyond my comprehension that I really wasn't sure if I believed it could really happen (hello, run on sentence!). I wanted it. Oh let me tell you how much I wanted it. But wanting something doesn't make it reality. Believing it does. My entire life believing has been my obstacle. I am such a dreamer, but I've never been much of a doer. I can set goals with the best of 'em, but I rarely reach them. Anytime something requires a little bit of work I immediately back off and go find something else about which to dream. I don't think it's because I'm lazy. I think it has more to do with a fear of failure.

This quest for health that I've recently found myself on has felt different from the get go. It's not really a goal, but a habit. I don't know. Maybe that's why it's different in my mind. That, and it doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel like work. I don't feel like I'm failing. So I do my bike several times per week and I get to watch some silly TV shows. I lift a few weights or take a fitness class while my kids are being entertained. I'm seeing the numbers move on the scale and I'm noticing some differences in my body shape but in my mind (and in the mirror), I'm still that fat, out of shape girl. I know it's changing, but it's not a scary change. I'm moving slowly. Slowly enough that I don't really notice the changes ~ or so I thought.

Boy #1 is on the swim team. He's my all grown up kid, but next to the big highschoolers on the team, he's really still just a peanut. These pictures are from his first (and only, so far) swim meet. He was giddy with excitement and I swear pride was oozing from me that day. You would have taken a paper towel and wiped the pride off of my arm. It was thick. I was proud and unapologetic. He loves swim practice and he's so focused and works so hard to reach his goals (he gets that from his father, btw) that he continually amazes his coaches.

*go Peanut, go!*

The swim team is at the pool 5 days a week, but my boy only practices two days. Boy #2 is taking swim lessons right now as he has every intention of following in big brother's foot steps. He occasionally practices with the team before his lessons and he's already impressed the coaches with the speed with which he picked up doing flip turns (I'm not sure I will ever master those things). (There is a point to all of this, I swear).

The swim team is taking the entire month of August off from practicing for various, unimportant reasons. However, we're still up there twice a week for #2's lessons and #1 is having some serious chlorine withdrawls so we decided to swim some laps together the other night while #2 had his lesson.

I'll. Be. Damned. There I was minding my own business swimming along and I looked down at the bottom of the pool and realized the tiles were moving by me much more quickly than they did a few weeks ago when I swam. Could it be? Is it true? Could my workouts in the gym have made me a stronger, and therefore a faster, swimmer? No way!!

Isn't it funny how everything is connected like that? But wait ~ the title of this post is "Run, baby, Run" and I've only talked about swimming.

Today, while at the gym I was feeling pretty good so I decided to take a little walk on the treadmill when I was finished with my bike workout. The walk was feeling good, so I decided to up the speed and little bit and well, look at that: I was jogging. Like for reals! I jogged for a minute and then walked for two. Then I jogged for another minute and walked for two. I did that for 20 minutes and then realized ~ um, I think I just did (almost) the first day of C25K.

And. I. Didn't. Die. In fact, I'd say each running minute was a little easier than the last. By the last one I was in a rhythm and I was feeling good. My foot didn't hurt at all, but the proof will be in the morning when I get out of bed. Will she walk or will she hit the floor? I'll let ya know.

I just may have a runner buried deep within me yet. Suddenly, I believe that my dreams can become my reality.

Also, I was nominated for a bloggy award this afternoon (honestly, I didn't even know anyone read my blog!!). I'll get to that tomorrow.

Cheers, Y'all! (I can say that, I was born in KY) :)

Dusting Off my Dreams

For about three or four years now I've wanted to become a triathlete. Except I was scared to death of the swim. I've never formally been taught to swim. Sure, I spent hours in the pool as a kid. I played "Sharks & Minnows" and "Marco Polo" for hours with my brother and our friends. I can get tossed into the deep end of a pool and keep myself alive, swim around a little bit and even make it to the side of the pool in one piece. But I didn't know how to swim.

I put the triathlon dream aside last year and decided to concentrate on running. I thought once I got that done I could maybe, in a few years, eventually consider the swim and then revisit my dream. We'll see.

So, I did a bunch of research, bought several books, bought some new shoes, bought an Ipod and off I went running. Really it was more like panting and clawing my way through the miles and crying until I could come back home. It was ugly. And it hurt. No really, it hurt. Like doing major damage to my foot kind of hurt. I ended up hobbling around the house like a little old lady for months. Landed my ass in physical therapy. Fun times. That's when I took up swimming.

I know, right? Who knew. I fell in love. Let me say that again. I love to swim. I'm still not that great at it and I'm sure my son's swim coach cringes at my stroke. But I can get from point A to point B with relative ease and I almost look like I know what I'm doing.

So I've dug that triathlon dream out and dusted it off again. But wait ~ what about my foot? Physical therapy had been going so well that they discharged me ~ with a firm promise that I would continue my excersises and stretches on my own. That's when I joined the gym. My foot's been feeling great and about a week ago I got all cocky and decided to skip the bike and climb up on the treadmill. I walked for a few miles and then decided to try running again for a little bit (read: 60 seconds or so done three or four times). The next morning I. couldn't. walk. But the funny thing ~ it wasn't my hurt foot. IT WAS THE OTHER ONE!!!! What. The. F*ck?!?!

So, I did a little research. Did a little soul searching and decided it was my fancy shoes. Those expensive, high tech running shoes with stability control, arch support and every other bell & whistle one could think of; they were killing my feet. I called my PT and he confirmed what I already knew. Go with neutral shoes.

So, I headed out to the nearest Big 5 sports shop and found a nice FLAT insoled, pair of Saucony's on sale for $50. I've been wearing them for a week now and my feet could SING!!! I can still feel a little tenderness, but its getting better and better each day.

So, remember that dream? Oh yea. It's gonna be my reality. Next year. Mark my words. 2011 is the year Jess becomes a Triathlete.

Most training programs have a base starting point of being able to run for 30 minutes; being able to swim for 30 minutes and being able to bike for 40 minutes. Um, I can't do any of that.

So, the rest of this year will be dedicated to getting me to that base starting point.

I intend to give my foot about a week or two longer to rest and heal and then I'll start a running program again. Training for a 5K is step 1. Who's with me?!