Approximately two weeks ago, I decided that I hadn't punished myself quite hard enough in a long while (because spending a week in a cage wasn't enough...I'll explain next time)... so I took up running again. I really really REALLY hate running. The only long jogs I enjoy are those taken by people who annoy me. I hate the way my chest gets all tight and my mouth gets all dry...my hamstrings burn like hell and my hair gets in my face. It really is a miserable experience overall. There are plenty of other ways I would prefer to get my cardio exercise in. But, I also have an overactive Australian Shepherd with needs...lots and lots of needs,which require regular exercise. I would end up with a brain injury if I took him for a bike ride, he would end up with a brain injury if I took him kick boxing, and if I took him to pilates, someone would get humped. Therefore, I run. Its the best form of exercise I've found to date that comes complimentary with two birds once I purchase the stone. Buy 45 minutes in hell, get an exhausted dog and cardiovascular health. Awesome.
I shouldn't really say I hate running. I've always liked sprinting...I'm even kind of good at it. At least I used to be back in the days where I was forced to strut my skills in the public setting 3-5 times a week (PS- dear rowing, I don't miss you). My fast-twitch muscles are my friend... they are good to me for short bursts, don't ask much in the way of oxygen, and then they rest in peace until the next beating. One of my proudest moments in high school was when the track coach (who looked like you could slap a sarong on him and he would be right at home running amongst the cheetahs whilst blessing the rains down in Africa) came up to me after powder puff tryouts and said "Damn girl, you run fast".
I hate endurance running. I am a terrible endurance runner. Actually, I'm a terrible endurance anything. When I was on the rowing team in high school, sprint season was my happy place (provided I wasn't in charge of steering the boat). Head race season was my hell. I'm happy to give it all i've got for 30 seconds to a minute, puke, and then move on with my life. The whole pacing yourself and remembering to breathe aspect for an extended period is a tough can of worms for me. It sucks.
Lately I've been trying my hand at interval training. I haven't done the running thing in a long time, so I'm being kind to myself and doing the whole run X amount of time, walk Y routine, and gradually increasing the amount of straight up running I do each week (God help me). The other day, during a much-appreciated walking spell, I was reflecting on how much I hated the practice of which I was partaking, when suddenly I realized I was forgetting to breathe. Not only was I not soaking up the O's while in the midst of the running period, but I wasn't partaking of the available air while in a "slow" period. I was too busy thinking about how much I hated running because it gets me so damn out of breath... and while i'm thinking all this, getting all huffy and puffy about it, i'm not breathing. Special. There is plenty of air available for my pleasurable inhalation, but for whatever reason, I can't get myself to enjoy it, even though its right in front of me. Story of my life. Sometimes life gives me rest periods, but rather than enjoy the "breaks", I sometimes bitch about a lack of something. Aye yie yie.
Life is one big set of interval training...sometimes it goes fast, sometimes it goes slow. And, its an endurance race. Shit. I've gotta train better. Life isn't one short sprint of "getting it over with"...its a freaking marathon with fast periods, slow periods, pit stops, and sweaty competitors. To survive you've gotta learn how to enjoy whatever phase your in and not focus on a lack of something.
Right now my life is in a "walking" phase. I'm still in recovery mode from the whirlwind of 2009. That was one hell of a year, at least in comparison to anything I had experienced in my life up to that point. In January of that year, I helped my mom plan my grandma's funeral. In APril, I helped my dad plan my mom's funeral. In October, I got dumped. In November, I decided that feeling sorry for myself was exhausting, so I started the growing up phase, and therefore slowed down...and now I'm learning how to enjoy it.
In a previous personality, during such an uneventful part of my life, I would have focused on the lack of action in my world. I would find something to feel slighted for: being single, not having time off,not having a vacation planned in my future...and on and on and on. And I've never even been considered a "high -strung" personality, so I know some of you crazy bi-atches out there know what I'm talking about. Or maybe not, you may be too busy yelling at your boyfriend for something stupid. Anyway, these days I've learned that there is a certain gift to be found in the "slow" times. Those are the seasons we are given to catch our breath, grow up, and learn. Instead, we often focus on what we don't have ( like air), when in reality there is plenty of good things around us to enjoy (including oxygen). When things suck, (ie , life is "running"), we can't see an end to our troubles. Then, when relief comes (helloooo walking interval), we get so suspicious that the suffering isn't really over with that we don't accept our rest. Then, we get out of breath because we don't accept our resting periods, and then we feel like we can't go on. What a hot mess.
I think God knows that we can't really learn and grow when things are buck wild. We need a period of slow. My real growing happened in 2010, when I was granted with a "boring"phase that gave me the chance to figure out what the hell happened in 2009. Now, my life is still in an easy-does-it phase. Rather than focus on what I don't have, and making myself feel bored, I am trying to focus more on what I do have, and be thankful for all the good that surrounds me. The more I try to do that (key word try, I'm such a work in progress), the more peace I seem to have and the more good seems to find me. I know that there will be trouble again in my life, that's what life is. Its silly to think that I'll live my whole life without having another single bad thing happen to me. But, the more I relax and learn to be thankful for the things that surround me during slow "growth periods", the easier this marathon will become, as my spiritual cahones become stronger and stronger, making the sprinting portions a little less ball-busting each time.
So, this weekend, I'm going to run. Rather than bitch about the lack of air in my lungs, I'm going to take in as much as I can and be thankful for my luck of having such a scenic run so close to my house. Then, in the afternoon, I am going to lay in the sun and relax. My 86 year old landlord will likely bring me fresh squeezed orange juice (because she always does). So, rather than think about how much I could be doing but am not, I am going to marvel at how ridiculously amazing it is that I have a landlord that makes me fresh squeezed juice and takes care of my dog during the day...not to mention scoops his poop (for the record, she insists, I've given up on that argument). Maybe, with time, running and I can learn to become friends.
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