October 4, 2010

• TH Diaries: Week Four

  Healthkicker put up my first-day-out blog.  Granted, it's edited to be worse (as most editing goes) but it's there!

  Sunday. October 3. 2010.

  It's getting chillier out.  

  It took me a while to go out.  Really, I don't know why, but I don't like it when people see me exercise.  I think it's about privacy.  You know, people getting "all up in my bih'ness."  I moved to the wrong place.  

  As I stepped through my main door to get to my car, my neighbors were out talking on the stoop.  I said a pleasant (my best try at not feeling uncomfortable) hello, and tried not to join in the smalltalk.  One of them looked me up and down.  I hate it when people look me up and down.  It makes me want to ask them if I can pop their eyeballs out and take 'em with me if they want to watch that badly.  Same when I'm in the cafeteria and people oggle my plate.  It's violating, I tell you.  I'm getting over it.  So anyway, eyeball lady (long story behind her, but I won't get into that) says, "You're going...?"  Before she can finish, I said, "I'm going for a run.  See you later!"  The other one says, "I'm proud of you!"  I want to kick her and tell her I could care less about her pride.  

  I remember that I'm on PMS Phase 3.  This particular cycle has been a mean one.  I mean, literally, mean.  I will probably feel bad about these thoughts later.  

  I get to my circuit, and suddenly, my motivation gets left behind, unlike my pepper spray, keys, and cell phone I regretted putting in my pockets.  I eye the track, and I don't want to hit it running, like I always get myself to do.  There's an ambulance parked there, which I take mental note of.  I wonder how ironic it would be if I collapsed with the ambulance within walking distance.  There are two people already on the circuit, and I'm pretty sure one of them is the driver.  I don't want to hit the thing running. 

  I hit the thing running. 

  I remember my goal that was met last time I was out.  I don't remember when that was.  Monday, I think.  That was a long time ago.  Maybe I could do it again.  Maybe not.  It's kinda sunny.  It was.  The cloud cover that was pleasant a few moments ago had left, and I squinted into the sky to see when the next respite would be.  Not for a while...  but it was coming.  I'm telling myself that if I did it before, I could do it again. 

  If you did it once, you can do it again.  

  I so did not want to do it again.  But I kinda did.  I told myself I kinda did.  

  And then I did it.

  And then I doubled it. 

  As I walked off my circuit for another round, I wasn't elated.  I was thinking about the next time I could get out there.  

  

   

  Update: Monday, October 4, 2010.

  Went for another run today.

  I've never felt better after a run.  NEVER.  I mean, ever.  

  I beat my distance (and time) from yesterday, and as I walked to cool down, from somewhere not-so-deep inside (I could swear it was my legs), I heard: I don't want to walk!  Run, you fool, run!

  And I did.  I ran and ran and ran.  And I loved it.  Came back.  Didn't even remember going up the Mount Kilimanjaro stairs.  Stretched.  I'm going to step into the shower.  But I'ma remember this day. 

  Oksana was proud.

  Oh, and I talked to my friend the other day about my whole idea of putting my priorities in order, and how running couldn't be one.  She really set me straight on that one.  Thanks, Jude.  Happy Birthday.  This one's for you. 

   

  • 7:27 pm
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