The 30-Minute Mile

I have decided to run a half-marathon. No, I don't know why. Yes, I am crazy. No, I've never been a runner before. It is customary for me to question the sanity of runners: why would you run 1 or 5 or 13.1 or 26.2 miles unless someone is chasing you? And yet, I have decided to become one of them. At least temporarily. My plan is to run the St Jude Half next December--yes, that gives me a year and a half to prepare. I will need every day of that time, because I am chubby, inactive and clumsy. Some co-workers started this, and being the bandwagon-hopper that I am, I'm doing it, too.

I have set an initial goal of running (not walking) a 5K by this fall. I downloaded an App to my iPhone (a gadget about which I cannot wax eloquent enough, but that is perhaps another post) called "Couch to 5K," recommended by my friend Jen who is also going to start running. This really, truly describes me. Yes, I occasionally swim laps at the gym. But in general, I am lazy. Not lazy when it comes to work and parenting, but lazy when it comes to The Big E. I do not get that "high" from exercise that people talk about. I just get winded and sore. I have 100,000 excuses for why I don't/shouldn't/won't exercise. Blisters, sweat, lack of exercise clothing, bad shoes, no time, sore ankle, a cough, cramps, something good's on TV, etc. So, I am most assuredly starting from The Couch.

This "Couch to 5K" App is very similar to the program I found on runnersworld.com, a site I thought I'd never frequent, but now it's saved in my Favorites. It starts with running for one minute, then walking two minutes, then repeating this for a total of 30 minutes. The App gives me voice prompts for when to switch from one mode to the other and allows me to load my music (an essential element to movtivate me) from iTunes right in. What this App does NOT do is tell me to quit crying, to yell at me to keep moving, to urge me to breathe, to massage my calves, to still the jiggling parts of my flabby body when I run. It is still a great tool, though.

My first run was in our neighborhood, which is a bit hilly. Well, "hilly" might be an overstatement--it is slightly inclined in a couple of places. When you are starting from The Couch, hills/inclines are an unnecessary hurdle. Also, I was not interested in having my neighbors see me gasping for breath after running for less than a minute.

So I did the rest of the week at our little town's City Hall Park, where there is a blessedly flat trail. The sign there says that 4.5 laps equals one mile. On Day 3 of my training (if we can even call it that at this point), it took me 30 minutes to go 5 times around this trail. A 30-minute mile. At this pace, I would finish a half-marathon in about 6 1/2 hrs, assuming I kept moving non-stop. I'm pretty sure the race would be closed by then, all volunteers safely back at home, and the finish line dismantled. Nonetheless, I was proud of myself. Proud that I kept moving for 30 straight minutes, proud that I ran even though I had a little blister, proud that I got my booty outta bed that morning--and the two mornings before, proud that I'd made it through the work-out without cursing the clock for not moving faster during the running parts and moving too fast during the walking parts.

I may never be fast and fit and thin, but I WILL run 13.1 miles at one time, even if I am crying when I cross the finish line and even if there's something good on TV that morning.