Week twenty

I went to the fucking gym today.

What? You thought my roughly three-month hiatus from posting meant I slacked off, didn’t you? You thought I fell off the wagon, threw my fingerless gloves into a drawer, and slunk off to a corner filled with Cheez-Its and shame. You thought I failed like so many pool noodle barbell pads and pantyshorts before me.

Didn’t you?

Well. You couldn’t be more wrong, bitches. This is week twenty or some shit. I went to the fucking gym today, and I worked the fuck out.

Week 20, bitches. And week... like, one. Or two. Early on.

Week 20, bitches. And week… like, one. Or two. Early on.

That on the left there is after RIPPED this morning. Sweaty mess. Asscrack of dawn.

OMG, speaking of ungodly hours when the sun isn’t out. Last night I went to Body Pump, and thanks to the shortening of the days, it was dark when I left the gym. Then this morning, I went to RIPPED, and it was STILL FUCKING DARK when I got to the gym. I can’t even. It’s like I never left. Someone with severe vision problems who could only see when the sun was out would have seen me go in before the sun set and seen me leave only after the sun rose again and thought I had been in there the whole time. Of course, such a person would have to be camped outside of my gym, stalker-like, and be suffering from this imaginary condition I just made up for the sake of my hyperbole. Just go with it, y’all.

I’m not just going to the gym anymore, either. Oh, no. Now? Now I’m running, too.

wpid-img_20140828_174455.jpgAround the time I wrote my last entry, a couple of my friends from work and I started the Couch to 5K program with the goal of running a 5K race on November 1. If you don’t know (we didn’t, necessarily), a 5K race is 3.1 miles. The Couch to 5K program is this system that, as the name implies, trains you to get your lazy ass off the couch and run well enough to complete a 5K in about 8 weeks. To this end, my Running Mates and I purchased some fancy-pants running shoes (the ultimate accessories), downloaded some apps, and started getting together after work to jog through the sketchy neighborhood near our office.

Make no mistake: I don’t love running, nor do my Mates. But we do it. We do it because we kick ass. And also because there are three of us, and nobody wants to puss out and disappoint the others.

The Couch to 5K thing starts out simply enough. Day one has the app prompting you to do a 5-minute warm-up walk, then run for 60 seconds, then walk for 90 seconds, back and forth for 20 minutes. You do that for a few days, and then the app increases the running time little by little. And that shit has not been easy. We all thought we were gonna die that first week. And then, when the app ramped up our jogs to 90 seconds, and two minutes, and three minutes? Each time, we were scared. Very, very scared. But then… we did it! Because we kick ass, that’s why.

At this point, we are running 20-25 minutes at a time. We ran today, in fact. Today I didn’t run the whole 20 minutes. I got a stitch in my side and briskly walked some chunks. But I have run a complete 20 minutes without stopping, a fact which is monumentally baffling to me. I cannot believe I can do that.

Also, I don’t know if you caught this, but I went to the fucking gym this morning, AND I went fucking running this afternoon. Yeah! How about them apples?

Our 5K is this Saturday. I had hoped to be a little more consistent in my running by now, and running for longer stretches, but I have no doubt the three of us will complete the race, and we’ll run at least the majority of it. I’m already really proud of us. Seriously, ladies; you inspire me and shit.

Now, our 5K is this Saturday, but after we started training and planned to do that 5K, we found out about a mud run that was scheduled for earlier this month, and we decided to do that, too.

We call these the Shin Scrapers/Crotch Crushers.

We call these the Shin Scrapers/Crotch Crushers.

That’s me on the left, balancing on some crazy-ass posts that are submerged in water and mud.

So a mud run is a 5K (this one was, anyway) that has a shitton of insane obstacles all throughout. Really, really messy obstacles. Stuff like, “here, get into this pool of mud and crawl across, under these logs” or “check out these ropes suspended across a muddy lake! Now, walk across one and hold onto the other!” or “now climb over these half a dozen hills made of literal, clay-like mud, and in between each, splash into puddles where the mud goes to your knees!”

That last one, I was for serious worried I was going to lose my shoes.

Anyway, we did that shit. I did that shit! Even the obstacles that were scary. I’m scared of heights; sue me. One surefire way to die is to fall from a high enough height. I’m willing to bet some of the obstacles that involved climbing and scaling shit got to heights sufficient to break a neck. And yet, I conquered my fear and scaled that shit like a BOSS.

So, yes, the mud run was a 5K, but in my mind, it’s not quite the same as the 5K we’ll run this weekend, because the running itself was broken up by so many obstacles. The 5K this weekend won’t take nearly as long and won’t have the full-body challenges of the mud run, but it will be the traditional endurance-tasking challenge of just running and running and RUNNING, not to save yourself from something pursuing you, but instead just to do it.

Still, because we have completed the mud run and have the T-shirts to prove it, I feel we have joined a tribe. The tribe of People Who Run. And the members of the tribe have a uniform that is made of every T-shirt every race ever gave out. That’s right; races come with automatic accessories! Excellent!

To be fair, since I’ve been running, I haven’t gone to the gym quite as often as I was before. I feel my commitment to the Mates to run after work trumps my workouts at the gym, and though I usually would technically have time to go to the gym after a run, I sure as shit don’t feel like it. So that’s the deal I made with myself: if I run, I don’t have to go to the gym. But I can and should go to the gym in the morning when I don’t have my kids. And I’ve been doing that fairly consistently.

And I’ll do it tomorrow, bitches. Because this is week twenty or some shit. And I’ve lost about 10 pounds, and people can tell. And one time I asked if I counted as a “regular pumper” in Body Pump, if my three months (at that time) vetted me as a regular, and one of the other gals in the class said I was definitely a regular, and it wasn’t just any gal but the gal whose shapely ass I noticed the very first time I went to Body Pump. And I’m feeling very body positive, even though I’m not exactly where I want to be, because I feel good about where I am and proud of how I got here.

Weeks 9 – 20

  • Favorite part: running though mud and not getting a brain-eating amoeba (it was touch-and-go there for a minute).
  • Least favorite: being reminded by my exploding lungs that I really need to quit smoking.
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