Sucking Wind

@#%*K Training Day 1:

I briskly walk around the block and to the cemetery with my husband, 9 year-old daughter and 11 year-old son, who has made himself my official trainer. Their common strategy is to heckle me into shape.

When we arrive at the cemetery, the 60 seconds jogging followed by 90 seconds walking intervals begin. My trainer, who has the stopwatch, keeps forgetting to tell me when 60 seconds is up. He's so far ahead, I wouldn't be able to hear him anyway. My husband says this is a ridiculous training regimen, and that what I need to do is just run. He must have selective amnesia for all the time I haven't run in our 17 year marriage. My daughter is skipping along like a deer, asking me why my legs do that funny kick thing when I run. She's imitating me.

If could breathe, I would tell them all to go dig a hole.

Not a one of them, nor the two teenagers who stayed at home because I might embarrass them (in public), thinks I will ever finish this training. Not a one.

I can't catch my breath to talk, so I boil in my juices, thinking up reasonable excuses for why I can't do this. Only a reasonable excuse, like a broken bone or pneumonia will do. Otherwise, for the rest of my life, I'll have to hear about how I quit.

Thinking makes me go slower and the heckling volume reaches a new decibel.

I survive day 1, but I go home and pout.

Finding a Way

My friend Charlotte, who features prominently in my 2nd book, Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run, when I told her my plan for running a 5K, gasped, "You're going to do that in public?" Charlotte could forgive me for getting cornered into actual exercise, but she could not understand any resolve that led me to display my efforts on the sidewalks and streets or our fair town.

I'd never considered that I would actually have to train where neighbors could see me hobbling and limping and breathing like a lung blew.
Heeding her fears for me, I made an Internet search for 5K training plans. Most of the ones I found assumed I could actually run some measurable distance for a sustained period longer than 20 seconds. One of the training schedules started with Day 1: Run one mile. Puh-leeeeeze.

What I was looking for was a routine heavier on wine and chocolate than on whine and wheezing. I settled for a schedule that falls between the two extremes:

Crypt to 5K Training Schedule



Week	Workout 1	Workout 2	Workout 3
1	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then alternate60 seconds of jogging and 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes.	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then alternate60 seconds of jogging and 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes.	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then alternate60 seconds of jogging and 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes.
2	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then alternate 90 seconds of jogging with 2 minutes of walking for a total of 20 minutes.	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then alternate 90 seconds of jogging with 2 minutes of walking for a total of 20 minutes.	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then alternate 90 seconds of jogging with 2 minutes of walking for a total of 20 minutes.
3	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then do two repetitions of the following: ·         Jog 90 seconds ·         Walk 90 seconds ·         Jog 3 minutes ·         Walk 3 minutes	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then do two repetitions of the following: ·         Jog 90 seconds ·         Walk 90 seconds ·         Jog 3 minutes Walk 3 minutes	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then do two repetitions of the following: ·         Jog 90 seconds ·         Walk 90 seconds ·         Jog 3 minutes Walk 3 minutes
4	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then: ·         Jog 3 minutes ·         Walk 90 seconds ·         Jog 5 minutes ·         Walk 2 ½ minutes ·         Jog 3 minutes ·         Walk 90 seconds ·         Jog 5 minutes	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then: ·         Jog 3 minutes ·         Walk 90 seconds ·         Jog 5 minutes ·         Walk 2 ½ minutes ·         Jog 3 minutes ·         Walk 90 seconds Jog 5 minutes	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then: ·         Jog 3 minutes ·         Walk 90 seconds ·         Jog 5 minutes ·         Walk 2 ½ minutes ·         Jog 3 minutes ·         Walk 90 seconds Jog 5 minutes
5	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then: ·         Jog 5 minutes ·         Walk 3 minutes ·         Jog 5 minutes ·         Walk 3 minutes ·         Jog 5 minutes	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then: ·         Jog 8 minutes ·         Walk 5 minutes ·         Jog 8 minutes	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then, jog 2 miles
6	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then: ·         Jog 5 minutes ·         Walk 3 minutes ·         Jog 8 minutes ·         Walk 3 minutes ·         Jog 5 minutes	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then: ·         Jog 1 mile ·         Walk 3 minutes ·         Jog 1 mile	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 2 ¼ miles (about 25 minutes).
7	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 2 ½ miles (about 25 minutes).	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 2 ½ miles (about 25 minutes).	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 2 ½ miles (about 25 minutes).
8	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 2 ¾ miles (about 28 minutes).	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 2 ¾ miles (about 28 minutes).	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 2 ¾ miles (about 28 minutes).
9	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 3 miles (about 30 minutes).	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 3 miles (about 30 minutes).	Brisk 5 minute walk. Then jog 3 miles (about 30 minutes).

The five minute walk allows me enough time to get to the cemetery adjacent to my neighborhood before I start the running. I figured dead people would enjoy the company no matter how close to keeling over and joining them I seemed. In fact, they might even like me better that. Thus began my crypt to 5K training, reluctantly, feebly, falteringly.

Note: This training schedule is modified from one I found on-line. Despite searching, I cannot find it again. If you can supply the link to it, I will certainly reference it.

Go Public

You can't get started until you start. It sounds redundant, but it's true. And the best way to get started is to go public.

Say out loud to someone, "I am going to train for a 5K race." If this sounds too scary to say to a friend or to your spouse or to one of your children, try it out on the bag boy at Publix. You don't have to yell. You just have to say it loud enough for someone else who might be listening to hear you.

Next, practice on the guy under your car changing the oil. Then try it out on the bank teller when you go through the drive through. Keep saying it until you get comfortable with the way it sounds.

But you're not done yet. Once you can say it without sounding like you're choking on the papery, red skin of a peanut, you've got to say it to at least one friend who cares about you.

This isn't fool proof, however. One of my best friends, when I told her, reminded me of my not running unless chased proclamation. My daughter was more disinterested in my announcement than the pimply boy on roller skates at Sonic. My sister asked, "Why would you want to go and do something like that?"

So I had to keep saying it until I said it to someone who asked me exactly what my plan was for achieving that goal.

"A plan? I have to have a plan? Isn't saying it out loud enough? Here I am going out on this limb sharing with you and you want to know my plan?" I shouted at my husband.

Say it anyway, because you can't get started until you start.

Picture Perfect

A Matter of Principle

As a matter of principle, I'm not a runner. I never really have been. I don't believe in it. My entire adult life I've lived by two strict and rigid rules: (1) Only run if someone is chasing me, and (2) No one can chase me if I don't run.

But I have this unfortunate attraction to cute exercise apparel. I like the colors. I like the sporty looks. I like the flattering fit. I DON'T, however, like the pressure I feel to use it for its intended purpose.

Somehow, in the midst of my drooling over a sleek little workout number in a catalogue, while sitting at the kitchen table with my daughter, I roped myself into committing to running a 5K race. My clever conniving to relieve my guilt for buying something I never intended to use properly got me cornered. Knowing my daughter would do her duty and turn me down, I asked her to train with me, weakly selling it as a girl bonding opportunity.

She looked at me like I'd just told her I was leaving to join a contemplative convent, and said, "I'd rather do my homework."

It worked out exactly as I had planned. I'd made the effort. But then, from around the corner came the voice of my 11 year-old son, who innocently offered, "I'll train with you, Mama."

I was trapped, with nothing left to do but tuck my skirt in my panties and run.