It's time, once again, to throw myself, again, into the Couch to 5K program!
This is probably my tenth or so time trying to complete the program, on a treadmill, of course. (I'm afraid of dogs, so running around the neighborhood is not an option for me, but I will run on a school track occasionally). In my heydey, when I was a senior in college and had a lot more time than I do now, I was able to complete all the way up to week eight of nine weeks. So, so close! I was actually running a consistent 25 minutes on the treadmill several times a week.
Unlike many of the hott people I envy, running is not something I necessarily enjoy doing. Part of the reason is that I'm Grace, and I have Wimpy Disease. The other part of the reason is that when I first started (trying) to run, I didn't get anything resembling the Running Zone, which the hott people writing for Shape magazine tell me is "that high you get when you're running along being hott and leggy and not breaking any kind of a sweat and everything is awesome and all your troubles instantly disappear and you're caught up only in the Zone and the beat of the newest Pitbull-Whoever hit musical compilation". No, Grace just slogged and slogged and slogged, all the while becoming increasingly less hott. And when I run, I sweat buckets, almost like a guy but worse, because at least two buckets of sweat are coming from my head. Seriously, who the heck secretes perspiration from their head? Thankfully, ADD meds worked wonders for the evolution of my Running Zone. I actually can get into the Running Zone nowadays, it takes about ten minutes of warming up and BOOM - I'm hott and not sweaty and kind of enjoying my run!
But again, it's a new year, a new opportunity, a new Grace. This year, I can - no, I will - run at least thirty minutes at 5 MPH on a treadmill! If I can get used to sleeping with a Darth Vader mask strapped to my face, I can definitely run thirty minutes in one go!
So earlier this month, when I was gifted a minor windfall for a resume I wrote for someone (yes, I do write and edit resumes for the low low price of $35 a pop, shill shill shill), I successfully completed the first, most awesome step of sweating buckets - hott gym clothes. Pre-spree, I wore the following to the gym, in different combinations every day:
- Terrifying purple wide-leg gym pants
- Terrifying very faded blackish wide-leg gym pants
- Terrifying boy's track pants with stretched-out elastic waist that I bought for ten cents back when the thrift shop was actually cheap and not invaded by hott people
- Terrifying tees in faded yellow, bright yellow, and faded black with some jazz musician on the front leaning over a piano and looking like he's dead
- Terrifying tees with holes, stains, and more stains
In my defense, I do own dedicated gym clothes. However, for some reason I bought moisture-wicking capris and tank tops. I don't wear things that show excessive body parts/excessive beads of sweat to the gym, so I have no clue what I was thinking here. These gym clothes live in my banished clothing box in my closet and are one step away from being donated to Goodwill.
I decided that my new gym clothes would be hott gym clothes (and let's face it, gym clothes that are also very functional and look like gym clothes). I bought a couple of athletic tees and yoga leggings from TJMaxx, and I've actually been wearing my ensembles to the gym. Go figure.
So now I am really ready to tackle that 5K. I've got the clothes. I've got the meds. I've got the only pair of earbuds that actually seem to fit my ears. I've got a pocket for my phone in the waistband of my new yoga pants. I've got NFL Replays and The First 48 on the treadmill TV screen. What more could I want?
Well, three things.
First of all, I really need to figure out why the back of my head is cramping up when I run. I think this happens because my glasses keep sliding down my nose and I keep wrinkling my nose to push them back up, but I'm not sure.
I also need a lock for a gym locker. I've always been too lazy to use a locker and just stick my purse and my coat on the treadmill handle. This has led to my coat falling off the handle and flying off the treadmill within inches of my feet, which is a potential hazard that could lead to amputation and/or death, so I should get right on that lock.
Finally, I really need a treadmill that's specifically engineered for really short people. This is, of course, wishful thinking. But wow, I would truly love for someone to build a treadmill with a TV screen that's low enough that I don't have to crane my neck upwards to watch Frederick "Fatty" Jones get interrogated by Miami law enforcement. That would totally make my day.
Well, I'm off to sit on my rear end for a couple more hours. See you at the gym. Later.
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