Tuesday, March 5, 2013

I'm afraid to believe in my goal . . . HELP ME!

I began a really noble goal a few weeks ago, and I am in danger of quitting.  For my entire life, I have HATED EXERCISE!  So badly that when I watch the motivating workout scenes with fanfare trumpet music in the background on Rocky I almost want to puke.  I have been inspired by my husband, and dear friends such as Kara, to give running a try.  I figured that granny walking wasn't really exciting enough.  My husband didn't start running until he turned thirty a few years ago, and he swears that your prime for running isn't until you pass thirty anyway.  He got to where he was running over eight miles at a time.  (I was secretly envious)

The problem is, I have horrible mental associations with running.  I used to tell people in high school (when I was eighty pounds thinner) that I would only run if someone was chasing me.  However, I was forced to run a mile weekly in my PE class with the coach that we not so affectionately called "Forrest Gump".  I want to get past the pain that I'm feeling now.  By pain I mean the jarring jittering sensation that I get when I run my measely half of a mile now.  I want it to look and feel effortless, like the African man that runs across campus daily.  When I see him run, he looks like a graceful gazelle, and like he just really enjoys it.

Jack swears to me that it will get better.  And I almost believe him.  I am made of the same bones, sinews, and body parts as the swift African runner, why can't I do it too?  I'm shamefull of my hatred and pessimissm.  My eighty five year old grandfather is in better shape than me.  He really is, I promise.  The man walks three miles every day.  I secretly long for a leaner body that glides along the pavement like butter.  However, I just really really want to overcome my inner running demons.  Three days a week Jack serves as my coach. "Ya Bum" he calls to me as I'm out the door to the field outside.  I try to ignore my inner voice who swears that I look like jabba the hut in running shoes.  Please don't look at my butt as my feet hit the pavement!