First, a little background, by way of confession: I have never been athletic. Not even close.
Seriously, even though I was tomboyish as a kid (despite my affection for Stewardess-Barbie-and-Captain-Ken makeout sessions in the Barbie airplane, and far too many seriously misguided TigerBeat-inspired crushes), even though I climbed trees (not too high!), rode bikes (“Look Ma, no hands!”) and played kickball with the neighborhood kids, ever since junior high I have been decidedly NON-athletic. The only organized sport I participated in directly was high school track...I think I was in 10th grade, but I don't really recall...apparently, I've blocked it out of my memory. What I do remember quite clearly is coming in LAST in EVERY race I ever ran. Seriously. LAST. Dead stinkin' last. In my most inglorious track moment, the yearbook photographer was taking post-race pics while I was still coming down the homestretch...and he was standing in the inner lane. MY lane. So the end of my 440 (yes, this was before we Americans succumbed to the metric system in track & field) featured my out-of-breath-but-still-quite-loud shout of "TRAAAAAAAACK!!!" so I wouldn't run over him. (His name was Scott and 90% of the female student body thought he was just dreamy, but I really didn't want a full-body slam to be his lasting memory of me.) Well, the look on Scott's face was definitely one for the yearbook...consider it the late 70s/early 80s version of "WTF???'
My only other foray into athletics was soccer. Boys' soccer. Junior varsity and varsity. I was the scorekeeper. Not exactly something in which one letters...
So now you may consider yourself warned. I have tried various activities to increase my fitness (and that always-highly-desired goal of weight loss, since I didn't inherit the slender gene), discovering the elliptical machine several years ago. Then I started cycling. Well, let's be honest: Lance Armstrong is a cyclist. I was definitely (and largely remain) a bike rider, but at least I have a cyclist attitude. From the endurance those activities generated, I gradually coaxed my nearly-middle-aged knees into occasional running on a treadmill. Then in 2009, a friend from high school ran in the Freihofer's Run for Women, an annual 5k race that's rather a big deal here in the capital city of New York State. So my New Year's Resolution for 2010 was to run the FR4W, as I chose to abbreviate it. I started out with running on the treadmill and then gradually (knowing the quirky nature of Upstate NY weather, make that very gradually) began the transition to running outdoors. My knees rather quickly informed me of the folly of my decision, but I pressed on, with a 3-day-a-week plan modeled on your typical "Couch Potato to 5k" training plan.
By now, with the FR4W on my event calendar, entry fee paid, friends lending encouragement from far and wide (including some who are actually willing to risk the profound embarrassment of running the FR4W with me...but I think at least one of them is only running for the free chocolate chip cookies...not that I'm judging), there's no turning back. In fact, just to keep me motivated to continue running after the Freihofer's, I have signed up for several more runs.
I actually had a REALLY scary thought yesterday evening: there's a mini-triathlon coming up in July...no, I'm not crazy enough to try (ha! pun! "tri," "try"...get it? I know, "Shut up and type, Gingah...") to do that much so soon. But it did make me think that next year's event would be possible. My FB friend (and, oh yeah, triathlete) Tiffany is clearly a bad influence on me. And I mean that in a good way.
So, welcome to my inaugural blog. I'm actually trying to backtrack a little here, since my running efforts are now well into their fifth month. For those of you fortunate enough not to have lived through the last five months of my Facebook status updates, well, now you're gonna pay the price. I can't promise insight or profound wisdom. I'll be satisfied with mild entertainment and the occasional moment of enlightenment. My literary influences tend more toward Dave Barry and Jimmy Buffett than Gore Vidal or David McCullough, so you might want to think twice about drinking any beverage that you do not want blasting out through your nose while you read of my (mis)adventures. If I make you laugh, I consider that medaling in my event. If I make you shoot YooHoo out your nose, that's the top of the podium, baby!!!
I will also try to keep my blog entries brief (but no promises, as I am not particularly noted for being terse)... As the great Dorothy Parker once wrote, "Brevity is the soul of lingerie."
Gotta run...
(HAH! I kill me!)
Seriously, even though I was tomboyish as a kid (despite my affection for Stewardess-Barbie-and-Captain-Ken makeout sessions in the Barbie airplane, and far too many seriously misguided TigerBeat-inspired crushes), even though I climbed trees (not too high!), rode bikes (“Look Ma, no hands!”) and played kickball with the neighborhood kids, ever since junior high I have been decidedly NON-athletic. The only organized sport I participated in directly was high school track...I think I was in 10th grade, but I don't really recall...apparently, I've blocked it out of my memory. What I do remember quite clearly is coming in LAST in EVERY race I ever ran. Seriously. LAST. Dead stinkin' last. In my most inglorious track moment, the yearbook photographer was taking post-race pics while I was still coming down the homestretch...and he was standing in the inner lane. MY lane. So the end of my 440 (yes, this was before we Americans succumbed to the metric system in track & field) featured my out-of-breath-but-still-quite-loud shout of "TRAAAAAAAACK!!!" so I wouldn't run over him. (His name was Scott and 90% of the female student body thought he was just dreamy, but I really didn't want a full-body slam to be his lasting memory of me.) Well, the look on Scott's face was definitely one for the yearbook...consider it the late 70s/early 80s version of "WTF???'
My only other foray into athletics was soccer. Boys' soccer. Junior varsity and varsity. I was the scorekeeper. Not exactly something in which one letters...
So now you may consider yourself warned. I have tried various activities to increase my fitness (and that always-highly-desired goal of weight loss, since I didn't inherit the slender gene), discovering the elliptical machine several years ago. Then I started cycling. Well, let's be honest: Lance Armstrong is a cyclist. I was definitely (and largely remain) a bike rider, but at least I have a cyclist attitude. From the endurance those activities generated, I gradually coaxed my nearly-middle-aged knees into occasional running on a treadmill. Then in 2009, a friend from high school ran in the Freihofer's Run for Women, an annual 5k race that's rather a big deal here in the capital city of New York State. So my New Year's Resolution for 2010 was to run the FR4W, as I chose to abbreviate it. I started out with running on the treadmill and then gradually (knowing the quirky nature of Upstate NY weather, make that very gradually) began the transition to running outdoors. My knees rather quickly informed me of the folly of my decision, but I pressed on, with a 3-day-a-week plan modeled on your typical "Couch Potato to 5k" training plan.
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