Cookie Monster

It is hot.

Stiflingly hot. Muggily hot. Soul-suckingly hot.

My run this morning was supposed to be five miles, but I cut it down to three when I realised that I'd started sweating before I even made it outside (I couldn't even be bothered to castigate myself for this, so I think it was a pretty good decision).

Thankfully, it should be a lot cooler over the next few days, but... I'm taking tomorrow's run to the gym, I think. I don't love treadmills, but I do love air conditioning.

Side note: I am wearing a Cookie Monster t-shirt today, and I've gotten more comments on it than I have on any other article of clothing that I've worn in the last, oh, six months or so. Kind of funny to think that that's the case, especially given that a) I picked it up at Goodwill because I needed more exercise-happy shirts and b) I've never watched Sesame Street.

It seems to be making other people happy, though, so I'll be content with that.

Note to self: stretch more.

I probably should have...

1) Skipped the hill sprints yesterday

a) Did them because: I keep saying that I need to add hill sprints and intervals to my running, and then I don't...

2) Stretched more this morning

a) Didn't because: I hate stretching. I have nobody but myself to blame for this one.

3) Skipped this morning's run entirely (my hip was wicked sore (nothing that skipping the hill sprints wouldn't have fixed))

a) Didn't because... but, but, NO RUN???

4) Stopped to stretch again when my shoulder gave out on mile two

a) Didn't because: My shoulder is always the first thing to get tight, so...

5) Gone home when my hip gave out on mile three

a) Didn't because: I really hate skivving on Sunday long runs. Besides, my hip actually hurt less when I ran than when I walked, so I just had to be careful not to turn my foot the wrong way or lengthen my stride.

The upside of the run this morning: My hip was in so much pain that I didn't even notice silly things like fatigue and asthma. There's always a silver lining!

I just want somebody to suffer with me

I called my dad the other day and we chatted for a couple of minutes. Eventually he asked (I don't call all that often, and when I do it's generally for a specific reason) if there was anything in particular going on. "Well," I said, "now that you mention it, what are you doing October tenth?"

He poked around in his calendar - he tends to be very, very busy, and he travels a lot for work, so there was no guarantee that he wasn't scheduled straight through to 2011. "Nothing, yet," he said.

"Oh, good!" said I. "How do you feel about running a half marathon?"

So... barring as-yet-nonexistant timing conflicts, he'll hopefully be coming up here to run a half with me. He said that his times are currently really, really slow, but... well, his "really slow" times are my "sort of slow" times, his "decent" times are my "no way in HELL is that going to happen anytime soon" times, and since he has three and a half months to prepare and I don't really plan to get much faster in that period (and considering that he is, hmm, goal oriented and doesn't always know his limits - gosh, I wonder where I got that same trait from?)...

Anyway. "I just want somebody to suffer with me," I told him. Good thing he understands my sense of humour.

Good days

I loved my run this morning.

It wasn't that it was exceptional by any standards... I got a late start (7:45?), so it was warmer than I would have liked, I hit a lot of "don't walk" lights, and I literally don't remember the mile or so that I ran through the "downtown" part of my neighbourhood.

But... I don't know. Maybe it was the man I passed who (also running) was singing "Alejandro" at the top of his lungs. Maybe it was just that it was a lovely day. Maybe it was that I kept up a comfortable pace (barring stoplights and the occasional pause at a drinking fountain) and didn't feel like I was dying at the end. Maybe it was that it was my longest run yet and it didn't feel impossible.

It was just a good run.

Applying pressure to the brakes

Longer runs = more energy spent = more energy must be taken in.

Must work on that last bit.

I saw pictures from the 5K, which is pretty exciting - not that I'm willing to pay the exorbitant amounts of money that they charge for prints or digital copies, but I like having proof (well, proof beyond the racing bib) that I ran a race.

On the subject of racing, I've re-thought my original plan to run an August half-marathon. In the first place, I can't find a local one that suits my timing (I rely on public transportation, so... I'm limited in terms of location!); in the second place, August seems like it might be a rather hellishly hot time to run more than 13 miles; in the third place, I want more prep time anyway. So... now I'm eyeing the BAA's half-marathon in October. Registration's not open yet, but - well, that's the current plan. I'm trying to remind myself that there's no hurry and that I don't want to spoil the enjoyment by doing too much, too fast.

Otherwise... not much of interest. Spin class yesterday (definitely, definitely need to make a point to eat more next Wednesday; the class kicked my butt because I had no energy), four and a half miles this morning... beach this weekend?

And all before 9 AM

I woke up in a decidedly pissy mood this morning - no good reason; I think it was just that my dreams have ended their (unprecedented) mild streak and gone back to being on crack all the time - and decided that my run should end at the gym (I used to say that tea cured all ill. Now I say the same thing about ergs). That was easy enough to plot out, so... away on a run I went.

It was a three-mile run, and for a while I did the whole try-to-think-profound-thoughts-but-really-hum-middle-school-choir-songs thing (Sadly, I am not kidding. I get stuck on songs that I sang when I was 12. Also, hymns. I've been thinking about tweaking the lyrics somewhat... "I know this rose will open" could be "I know this run will end"...). And then - miracle of miracles - I realised that, two miles into my run, I was no longer cranky. Instead, I was definitely in a "la-la-la isn't this day PRETTY" state of mind.

Nice to know that that can happen.

I did the time on the erg anyway, of course, since I've been neglecting it of late. The day was salvaged! And all before 9 AM.

Abusing parentheses

Today was a gym day, which meant a while spent on circuit training (I'd kind of like to get away from circuit machines and focus more on free weights, but I don't really know enough about weightlifting - in any sense of the word - to make that happen). Halfway through my first set, one of the trainers walked through with a woman about my age. "Working hard?" he asked.

"Hardly working, so far," I told him. He laughed and introduced himself, telling me that he'd seen me around a lot. I guess the gym gets a lot of regulars and a lot of people who join and then never come... and not very many in-betweens. I'm kind of pleased to be - apparently - classed with the regulars.

Later today, my sister called and I told her about yesterday's race. When she asked what my time was and I politely declined to answer (explaining that while there was nothing wrong with my time, I thought I'd be happier if I didn't focus on times), she told me that my non-answer was very me and rather like my response to scales. It's true - she's been asking about my weight for years, despite knowing that I never (well. Rarely. There was an incident a few months ago) weigh myself. It just seems pointless to focus on a number that, really, tells you very little... especially when less weight =/= better health (a friend told me recently that she wants to gain about ten pounds of muscle this summer to put her up to ---. "Can we not talk about weight, please?" I asked. A few minutes later, having thought about it, I pulled back to the topic. "Although it is refreshing to hear somebody want to gain weight," I said, and we left it at that). Moreover, even knowing better, I have a hard time resisting the impulse to judge myself on the basis of my shape/size; I rather think that broadcasting my weight (which I don't know right now anyway) would hurt rather than help my quest for sanity.

Anyway. I am starting to ramble, which is totally normal and probably good for me (sometimes), but I also probably have more pressing things to do. So, off I go to procrastinate further by ruminating on the relative weights of a bottle of water and a bottle of ice.

Race day!

So... my first race was this morning! I can now cross "Run a 5K" off my bucket list.

It was fun - I got up early, puttered around, ate an impractical breakfast (note to self: anything with milk in it is a Bad Idea before running. Lactose = bad news. Well - lactose is always bad news, actually, but I'm out of crumpets again), and ran off to hop on the metro and ride all the way across town.

I was there by nine, I think, so I had ample time to pick up my t-shirt and racing bib and wander around (and watch the kids' races).

I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about running with people... I mean, I carry on a lot of conversations when I run, but those conversations are generally with myself, you know? But luckily I rather enjoyed it - first of all, it's harder to justify taking a walking break when everyone around you is still running; second, it's nice to be able to commiserate when you realise that half of mile three is a ginormous hill. Oddly, or perhaps not, most of the people I talked to were either rather elderly or burly, tattooed men. I am not sure what this means, but for whatever reason it doesn't surprise me.

Timing-wise... well, I try not to time myself when I run, just because I know myself and I know that if I start worrying about personal records and running faster then I will drive myself crazy. For that reason I think I'll leave my actual time off this blog, although I will say that I had a ballpark estimate going in and I ran about as fast as I'd expected. A bit faster, actually, which I think is partly because I got off to a fast start (the beginning of the course was downhill) and partly because, well, I was caught up in running with people and trying to pass people. Plus, I killed the last hundred yards or so, which was fun. I am not fast, but I can pull out a mean sprint to the finish.

You know, I'm still not entirely sure that I actually like running (I definitely like the beginning, I definitely like the end. It's the beginning that gives me pause), but... hey. Racing was fun :)

Treadmills

I did a treadmill run this morning - the original plan for the day involved running outside, but when I woke up I just wasn't feeling either of the routes that I'd plotted out last night.

I am ambivalent about treadmills. On the one hand, you don't have to deal with things like stoplights (which is great if you're in the zone... not so great if you just want an excuse to stop for a moment!). On the other hand, they're boring. Seriously, utterly boring. Also, last time I ran on a treadmill I felt like dying even sooner than I would on an outside run, so I wasn't really looking forward to that.

But I grabbed a couple of magazines, got on the treadmill, set the incline to Too Easy, You Lazy Thing, You (okay, that might not be exactly what the machine called it), and... off to the races!

And hey, what d'you know? I started at a speed of 5mph and gradually upped it until, at the end of four miles, I was at 7mph (I am not fast. I am never going to be fast. This is fine - "run a marathon" is on my bucket list, but "qualify for Boston" is not). And - I wasn't even winded. Bored, yes. The magazines were not that interesting (also, I read them too quickly), and I spent the last fifteen or so minutes having conversations inside my head. But I felt like I could keep going - do at least another mile, maybe two. I'm actually kicking myself slightly for not having kept going, just to see... but there's always another day, right?

Proof that I have lost my mind

My gym offers "group fitness classes", and for the last couple of months I've been looking at the schedule and going, "Oh, that looks interesting", or "I should try that one", or "next week I'll go to a class!"

...and then I never went. A combination of factors: bad timing, bad memory, fear of making a fool of myself.

But! The schedule of classes was revised a few weeks ago, and now there's a dance fitness class. It's only offered in June, so if I was going to take advantage of it I had to actually go. Like, now. Not later.

So on Tuesday I went for my rather boring run in the morning (made more interesting by my almost running into a police officer), went home, took a shower, did some work, ate some food... and went off to the gym in the evening.

To be honest, it wasn't the most inspiring of classes. It was fun, and I can see how much I've improved (when I first started dancing in college, it took me ages to get down the simplest choreography. On Tuesday, all I had to do was glare at my feet to make them cooperate). There were only a few other people there, though, and though the speed was perfect for my ability to learn steps, it wasn't great for working up a sweat.

This morning, though, I finally got around to going to a spin class. This is, again, something that I've been meaning to do. The only thing stopping me has been that the class is at 6:15 in the morning (who wants to get up at 5:45?), but I actually woke up before my alarm went, and - hey! Spinning is fun! It was an hour-long class, and while the second fifteen minutes hurt like nobody's business (and I think next time I need to remember to bring a water bottle), it was well worth getting up at the crack of dawn. The instructor was really nice, the music was good, my legs are sore, and I sweated like crazy.

Maybe this'll inspire me to try out other classes - Zumba, perhaps, or (horrors!) even yoga.

A shameful thing indeed

So... I bought a running skirt.

I don't actually understand the point of a running skirt. I mean, it's effectively a skort - a skirt on top of bike shorts. There's no good reason to wear it instead of a normal pair of shorts, and (up until the point in the dressing room when I decided that I was going to buy said running skirt) I used to scorn the very idea.

Except - well, the other options were hot pants or cotton or cotton hot pants. Considering that I have a bit of a chafing problem going on 'round the backs of my thighs right now (no thanks to sweat, I think, and compounded by time spent in running shorts on machines at the gym), cotton and hot pants are both BAD IDEAS - not that I'd ever wear hot pants in the first place, but that's not the point. Point is, my options basically came down to running skirt or try another store.

And the running skirt was comfortable. And kind of cute. And I figured that the bike shorts part of it might help with the chafing problem.

So... I ran in a running skirt today! I don't think it made much of a difference one way or another, but hey, it functioned, right? And I'm more (mentally) comfortable in it than I would be in just bike shorts, so that's something, too.

Moral of the story: Don't judge it until you've tried it.

Allergy fun

My allergies have been kicking up a storm the last week or so - I think it's because we had a lot of smoke drift over from Quebec. My lungs (and nose, and throat, and head) are much, much happier today, but running hasn't been entirely joyful this week.

Yesterday I cut myself a deal - if I ran rather than doing cross training (cross takes less out of me), I could do cross today. It turned out to be a wise move, since I was up working late late late last night and I wanted a bit of a lie-in this morning (Running in the middle of the day: Bad idea. Too hot. Air-conditioned gym? I can live with that).

Why is it, though, that when I spent forty-five minutes on the stationary bike, the only sore bits were my shoulders? (well, and my rear end, but that part at least makes sense) Very strange.

On the upside... Stationary bicycles: enabling the bookworm in ways that running cannot.

Flying

I played tricks on myself this morning: I wasn't sure that I wanted to do forty minutes on the rowing machine, so I promised myself that I could (if I so chose) do thirty minutes of erg and then fifteen on the stationary bicycle. When I got close to thirty minutes, I started setting smaller goals - get past x metres, get past y metres, sprint for a minute, etc. Besides, when you've done thirty minutes already, ten doesn't feel like much at all.

...I did some time on a stationary bike anyway, but nothing major.

The rowing machine is my favourite machine for zoning out. On the elliptical I get distracted by my feet going numb, on the bicycle I read, and on the treadmill I just want to curl up and die already... but on the erg there's nothing to do but establish a rhythm and stare off into space (Well. Or get a crick in my neck trying to see the television screens in the gym, and whatever's on is rarely worth it). I'm not always sure, when I leave, what thoughts went through my mind, but I know that I feel grounded.

(Speaking of grounded: I dreamed that I could fly! I'd never had a flight dream before.)

Little things

Man, I'd run all the time if the weather were like this every day - grey and cool and just barely muggy (yesterday and the day before it was hot hot hot and muggy and sunny and running was not so very much fun).

Today I ended up in blue shorts, blue sports bra, red t-shirt, and red socks... throw in my (very) blue eyes and (currently) red hair - not to mention my red face by the time I was through with my run - and I was very match-y today indeed. Silly, but it rather pleased me.

It's the little things.

Judgement-Free Zone

I saw a sign in a gym the other day: "Judgement-Free Zone". The gym was one of those huge ones with enormous plate-glass windows showcasing the cardio machines (and possibly weight training area, etc.; I didn't look closely enough to tell).

And I wonder - can that really be a judgement-free zone?

One of the reasons that I love my gym is that it doesn't have the whole plate-glass-window thing going on. I like that the crowd there is mixed; men of the rippling-muscle persuasion work out ten feet away from grey-haired, overweight couples. Moreover, it's three stories up; there are windows, you can't see much from outside. My body image isn't terrible, but neither is it flawless, and I would hate to have my sweaty, red-faced self in full view of the public as I hustled along on an elliptical.

Except - wait - I run in public. I don't mind that. And... I don't know what the difference is.

I know that, when I run outside, I open myself up to the scrutiny - however brief, however minimal - of the people I run past. At the same time, though, everyone out there on the sidewalk is in the same boat; the only difference is that most of them aren't running. I don't feel (very) self-conscious because I am aware that very few people really give a damn that I am huffing and puffing and really not very attractive while running. Somehow it is different with, you know, running in place and a giant plate-glass window. To many, I am sure that is fine (or better than fine). To me, it just... doesn't feel comfortable. Doesn't feel non-judgemental.

Dear self: Priorities, please

One of the reasons that I set myself this set of running goals - that I am following somebody else's plan and not creating my own - is that I don't do moderation very well. My inclination is to push myself farther than I think I can go... and then do it all again the next day, with an absolute minimum of rest days. In a way this training schedule is an exercise in frustration: it's not that I wake up every single morning with a burning desire to go run, but on off/strength/cross days, my inner bitch of a control freak rears her head and demands to know why I'm not running. You ran four miles yesterday, she says, so why aren't you running five today?

So that isn't why I run, but it is why I'm following a set schedule: hopefully it'll keep me sane a bit longer.

It's a lot easier to talk myself into breakfast/lunch/dinner when I'm running or otherwise working out every day (It really, really sucks to run when you haven't eaten in two days. Take my word on this one and don't try it at home), but I struggle with that. It's almost funny - I read other blogs, or books, in which women talk about turning to running to justify food, or talk about not allowing themselves certain treats unless they've met their fitness goals, and for me it's kind of the other way: I don't get to work out if I haven't eaten enough. I'm not really sure what that says about me, but... it has its ups and downs.

This past week or so has been a bit of a hard one in that respect. I think I'm getting enough calorie-wise (I don't think it'd be the best plan ever for me to count), but I'm planning it badly, running before breakfast and generally not eating after about five in the evening. This wouldn't be a big deal except that I can feel the difference when I run.

There is a bright side: I want to run more than I want to restrict. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

Straight Shot

I ran downtown again this morning - the same run that I meant to do last week, only this time I didn't get lost.

I spent a fair amount of time people-watching... at 8:30 on a Sunday morning, there aren't so many people out there (the place I caught the train back is kind of creepy in its emptiness at that time, actually), but - I don't know.

There are the other runners, who can be broken into various subsets - the smile-and-nod-in-solidarity runners versus the I'm-in-my-zone-don't-look-at-me runners, or the in-pain-and-not-trying-to-hide-it runners versus the BQ-or-bust runners, or the lycra-shorts-and-colourful-sports-bra runners versus the rumpled-t-shirt-and-ill-fitting-shorts runners (or the guy I saw running in jeans and a polo shirt. Yes, really).

Then there are non-runners of similar subsets. You get the people who smile at you and step out of the way so that you don't have to slow down (this morning, one man turned to smile and say, "You go, girl!"), and you get the people whose facial expressions say, clearly, "Why on earth is she doing that?"

If you take the subway home, you get three kinds of looks from people: "Good for you! You've been out exercising already", "Ew, get away from me, you sweaty person", or "Uh... why are you on the subway? Shouldn't you be in a gym, or running, or something?" (Well, you also get a lot of people who just don't care. But that's par for the course anyway.)

If - like me! - you get lost a lot, you end up interacting with more people than you might otherwise. I have honed my direction-asking skills - it pays to be small, female, and have a trace of an accent (I am told that this combination comes in handy in evading speeding tickets as well, but... well, I still can't drive, so that point is moot). I guess it's also a matter of knowing who to ask (i.e., don't ask the guy talking on a cell phone and juggling a cup of coffee and checking his watch as he hurries in the opposite direction), but honestly... people up here are nicer than they get credit for, I think.

I guess at some point I'm going to have to figure out how to make this run a loop - I like loops; I like Point-A-to-Point-B runs; I very much dislike there-and-back runs - at which point I may get to find whole new subsets of people to eyeball.

Rowing forever and ever and ever...

I love the rowing machine. I'm not entirely sure why, but I think it's because I feel as though I'm using my whole body to row.

Saturdays are (according to my shiny training schedule) cross days, so... erg it was this morning (last week I swam, but the local pool is small enough - three lanes - that just a few people too many and it's impossible to get a rhythm going). The erg is the only cardio machine for which I can't read while working out (bikes & books, treadmills/ellipticals & magazines), but... it doesn't matter. I've stopped bringing an ipod to the gym - largely because I don't run with one anymore - so rowing is time to either think or zone out.

I play games with the clock on the machine: At least three minutes have to pass before I look again. Let's see if I can get to x metres in the next 30 seconds. At y time, I'm going to sprint for a minute. They're kind of like the games that I play with food, actually, except (I hope) it's less destructive when it's just rowing.

Anyway. My parents are coming up to visit next week, so I told my mother to pack her running clothing: she has never used a rowing machine, which I think is TRAGIC. We are going to remedy this situation (and, yeah, probably go running, too).

The thing about the rowing machine is that I really do feel as though I could just keep going and going. I mean, with running - even when I enjoy it - I know that I'm going to hit a brick wall and it'll be freaking hard to push past it. The wall with the rowing machine is more like cardboard.

Of course, whether or not I actually apply them...

Lessons learned today:

-Running in misty rain is really quite lovely.

-I can go over dance choreography in my head while I am walking. I cannot go over the same choreography while I am running.

-Stretching does, in fact, help my shoulders stay loose while I run.

-There are way too many traffic lights en route to the pond to justify running there and back - not worth it unless I'm also running around the pond.

-Sometimes you need to just get up and run. Sometimes you need to sleep in and run later. Either is okay.

Blackmailing myself into stretching

Three miles this morning... it was definitely one of those days when I didn't want to run, which is one of the reasons that I'm grateful to be following a schedule. Although I'm probably harder on myself than any schedule that I could find to follow (again with the "I don't do moderation well" and "Rest days? What are you talking about?"), there are sometimes those days when you just don't. want. to. run.

I haven't lived here for long, so I'm learning my neighbourhood by running it: I use googlemaps to plot my routes, and then... well, then I try not to get too lost. Because I don't always know the areas I end up running through, it's a mixed bag: sometimes I run through the sort of classic, historic parts of town; sometimes I run through areas that I probably wouldn't want to walk through carrying a purse. I recently figured out just how easy it is to run downtown - under four miles (on Sunday I ran downtown, ran around the Common to make it an even four, and took the subway home. My roommate was very amused by this).

Today's run was one of my bread-and-butter runs, though, a loop around the neighbourhood (mostly because I plan my runs the night before, and last night I was too tired to bother coming up with something new). It's pretty flat, pretty basic, the weather was cool and dry -

- and, yikes, everything hurt. My shoulder (which is normal; I never remember to stretch), my back, my chest, my knee...

So, note to self: stretch before running tomorrow! Stretch, self, or we will run hill sprints again!

Reading on running

I read a lot, and by "a lot" I mean 4-10 books a week. My interests vary - some weeks I read nothing but murder mysteries, some weeks it's all YA lit, some weeks I can't get enough of memoirs or nonfiction. I read while eating breakfast, walking down the sidewalk, riding the subway, cooking dinner, using a stationary bicycle. I am only partly kidding when I say that it is one of life's great disappointments that I cannot read while running or rowing.

My current running plan is actually one that I found by browsing through a bookstore's running section: I poked around until I found some authors whose styles I liked, narrowed those down to running plans that were challenging enough to keep me happy but manageable enough that I wouldn't accidentally keel over dead, and... went to the library to see what was available.

(I'm poor. If this whole running thing works out, I'll buy the book for real.)

Anyway, after deciding that I liked the flexible attitude demonstrated in Hal Higdon's books, I ended up using a plan from his website (http://www.halhigdon.com/). First, though, I checked out some general books on running. The library options were a bit limited, actually, but I did find a couple of running books tailored to women...

...which were quite a disappointment.

Don't get me wrong - they had good advice, and a lot of what they said made good sense. But I was struck by the emphasis on beginner that these books had compared to books not tailored towards women. Gender-neutral books (with the exception of books written specifically for beginners) spend a couple of chapters talking about beginning to run and then dive into longer distances, competitions, running for time. The women's running books that I read spent chapter after chapter on diet and weight loss and the benefits of running and what to wear and how it's really not that hard to run a 5k! You can do it!

Again: don't get me wrong. The books have a point, and for a beginning runner the emphasis on, well, beginning is much more useful than a book geared towards serious long-distance runners. I think I just resent the fact that there's so little on long-distance running for women - a couple of chapters at best. (That, and I just can't get behind a book that refers to taking a bathroom break while running as "taking a potty break". I guarantee that that phrasing wouldn't fly in a gender-neutral book.)

...One author said that, if you're going to judge other runners, don't judge them by how far/fast they run but by how devoted they are to running (i.e., whether they run every day, rain or shine, or only on weekends). That was about where I stopped taking the book seriously - I'm not interested in judging how "real" a runner anybody else is.

I picked up some useful tips from these books, but when I buy a couple of books about running, they probably won't be geared towards women. I'm not in it to lose weight or to de-stress after work. I'm in it to run.

Why "Just Dance"?

I guess it doesn't make a ton of sense to call this blog "Just Dance" when I'm talking about running, huh.

I danced for three years in college. It was simultaneously the hardest and most rewarding thing that I did in those three years - I have no dance background, minimal coordination, and a giant dose of stage fright (it should be noted that there were no tryouts; the group accepted everyone who wanted to drum or dance). It was the thing that kept me sane, the thing that drove me insane, and the thing that kept me moving (three two-hour practices every week makes for pretty good exercise).

Then I graduated, that was the end of that, and I joined a gym.

At this point I go for a run more often than I go to the gym, but what I found was that some kinds of cardio - the elliptical machines in particular - give me the same feeling of strength and joy that dancing did/does. With the right music, it doesn't feel like exercise at all. I haven't found that feeling yet with running, haven't yet found a space where I don't know my limitations, but that's where I hope to be eventually.

Today was a gym day instead of a running day: I'm on the second week of a 12-week half-marathon training program (I don't do moderation very well... but that is perhaps a topic for another time), and Mondays are "stretch and strengthen" days (stretching: another thing that I don't do very well). I have mixed feelings about circuit training, but it definitely makes for a nice break following yesterday's four-mile run - my longest yet! I'm chomping at the bit somewhat, though; I miss cross-training.

The rowing machine is my favourite cardio yet: if I could find a way to row and read at the same time, I wouldn't need to run.

And thus a runner was born

It's my sister's fault, really.

Okay, that's not fair: I started running because I was going insane from lack of exercise (wait - that's not fair either - I was going insane, and lack of exercise wasn't helping). Hey, I thought, why not run? Running would definitely be cheaper than the gym.

Running was horrible. Shin pain. Asthma. Boredom.

I joined the gym.

But then my sister called from Vancouver, all chipper. Had I heard of this couch-to-5k program? No? Well, she was trying it.

What the heck, I thought. I can do that.

I'd love to be able to say "and thus a runner was born" (hence the title of this post), but I don't think I'm a runner yet. I'm not sure what the difference is between a runner and somebody who runs, but for the moment I think I fall in the latter category. Yes, I run. Talk to me in a month or so, when I've run my first 5k: maybe I'll be a runner then.