Nine years ago, I crashed my bike (sounds so much better than "I fell off my bike") and needed major shoulder reconstruction. During the extensive rehab, I said to myself that I would never ever complain about working out again. Y'all know where this is going, don't you?
Over the winter, I've been Pinteresting great workouts and motivational quotes, which it turns out is actually easier than doing the real thing, and evidently doesn't count. After having to buy new jeans because all my old ones hurt, I decided to get with the program. You know the program; we all know the program: eat sensibly, drink more water and less alcohol, and get more movement in. I'm blaming wasting time on social media on my slacking off in these areas, and yes, I know it's ironic that I'm posing this on social media. Welcome to 2017.
I've been dutifully doing my two-mile neighborhood run-but-mostly-walk (RBMW), but this past weekend I decided to ramp it up and do a 4+ mile route. The weather was gorgeous, the first two miles were great - probably because I had decided in advance that it would be a long one. I was remembering training for the half-marathons, and was actually considering maybe doing one this fall and wondering who I could talk into doing it with me. And then shortly before mile three when I was faced with a hill that made me want to cry.
(Funny story: many years ago I said I would help my son's then-fiancée now-wife train for the bike part of her first triathlon. The route was a VERY HILLY semi-rural road north of town - State Street, for you Omahans. While I could ride pretty good distances on the flats, I wasn't - and still am not - good on hills. I actually needed to get off my bike and lie down in someone's front yard for a bit. Poor Aly, she acted cool but I know she was afraid that this overweight red-faced mom in spandex was going to die on her watch.)
Back to this weekend. When faced with the hill, I stopped, bent over with my hands on my knees, and swore at my husband who was golfing so I couldn't call him to come get me. I sucked it up, buttercup, and put one foot in front of the other and made it home. I totally would've gotten in the car with a complete stranger, though, if someone would've offered me a ride. Just kidding but not really (JKBNR). Seriously though, after lunch, a shower and a nap, it did feel really good to get out there and work. Maybe I'll look into that Des Moines half after all. Or a 5K.
Oh, and the title of this post? I've seen it on some running blogs, and it's my new mantra.
Head up, wings out!