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?