Blogging on a Runner’s High

Victory!!

Today was the first day I actually felt good while running.  I mean really good.  My body didn’t argue with me, the weather was beautiful, my mind strong.  And I felt happy.

Not every day is or will be like this, but I realized that it’s important to know this feeling, to know what it is that makes you feel good so that you can more easily recognize what feels off or wrong.

On a different note, today I learned that I can look at visitor stats for my blog.  Granted, not many people go to my blog, but I was shocked to see that a few people outside of the U.S. have visited.  So I have to give a shout out to:

United Kingdom
Australia
Canada
Belgium
Poland
Kenya

Of course, this doesn’t mean anyone actually read anything I wrote.  They could have accidentally gone to a post, thought “What the #!%*?” and immediately clicked their heels and disappeared.  But that’s okay.  I mean, someone in Kenya looked at my blog.  For real?  Thank you, Kenya!!  I love you!!  In fact, I love all of you!!

I think I’m still on my runner’s high…

The Properties of Alchemy (and Meat)

**Disclaimer:  This is not a serious overview of alchemy, or meat for that matter.  If you’re a serious sort, I urge you to find other, more weighty info on Wikipedia (which will kindly lead you to scholarly sources) or look up Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall.  You won’t find anything intellectual here.  Okay, I feel better now.

From what I understand, alchemy is the mystical process of turning common metals into gold.  There are a whole bunch of philosophical, scientific and psychological ideas regarding this process, but for me, it’s like this:

Running and the other types of exercise I’ve been doing are causing some sort of alchemical process to take place in my body.  My calves, which I had hoped beyond all reason would get smaller, are changing into chicken drumsticks.  My badonkadonk is like shawarma, originally stacked, but now portions are being shaved off.  And my thighs?  They are meat-filled burritos, flexing their power, when before, they were flabby and quietly respectful.  They kind of have an attitude now.

[I’m sorry if I ruined anyone’s appetite.  And, uh, I hope there aren’t any cannibals reading this.  Just to be clear, I’m speaking figuratively.  Please don’t picture me in your head right now.]

I always knew that I had to make friends with my body as part of the whole process of accepting myself.  I used to take the easy route, wearing baggy overalls that covered – well, covered everything in an extremely generous way.  But one day I saw a photo of myself in said overalls, and I cringed.  I was shapeless.  I might as well have worn a cape three sizes too big.  The poodle perm didn’t help, either.

Now?  No more perm.  No more hiding in my clothes.  Now I just need mental alchemy to help me see gold in the common form that is me.

Where do you need alchemy?

Arguing With Oneself: A Runner’s Companion

Have you seen the film “All of Me”?  With Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin?  I haven’t, but I believe Lily Tomlin’s soul (?) somehow enters Steve Martin’s body and she is able to control the right (or is it left?) side of his body.

That’s how I feel when I’m running.

My upper half is pumped up, ready to run.  Feeling strong.  But as soon as I start running, my lower half seems to have a mind of its own – which is strange, since my mind is contained in my head, which, from what I learned in school is located in the upper half of my body.

My legs drag, almost tripping, moving without any kind of coordination.  If they had a personality, they would be Jerry Lewis’s original persona in “The Nutty Professor”.  A more contemporary example would be…oh poop, I’m not very contemporary…let’s just say anyone clumsy and inept.

So my upper mind starts lecturing the lower one:

Upper Half (UH): Focus!  What are you doing?  Are your shoes even on the right feet!?
Lower Half (LH): Dum de dum de dum…look at the ocean!  Is that a sea lion?
UH: Seriously?  You don’t even have eyes!
LH: I don’t need eyes to see.
UH: So now you’re a Jedi warrior?
LH: Maybe.  Dum de dum…You’re too serious.
UH: I am?
LH: I just want to be strong enough so that I can carry you when you get old.  Uh, older.  You’re too worried about how you look when you run.
UH: Oh.  You’re right.  Sorry I yelled at you.
LH: That’s okay.  I wasn’t really listening anyways.
UH:  You’re smarter than I thought you were.
LH: I know.

The conversation always starts off the same way, and about a mile or so in, they come to some understanding and I begin to run in peace.  I hope that someday the arguing will cease and that peace will be the first feeling that starts off every run.

Crossing Over: The Runner’s High

A real 5K through a fake town

A real 5K through a fake town

I was kind of kidding in my last post about having a runner’s high.  But something happened.  I think it happened to me.

What are the signs?  Slight euphoria?  Feeling like you can run another race even though you’ve just completed one?  Wanting to sign up for a 10K next time?

Adrenalin must have kicked in when the race started, because I never felt the lead in my legs like I usually do during the first five minutes of every run.  I ran slow and steady until I couldn’t anymore…and that’s when I took the photo above.  In my female age group, I finished 4th out of 17 runners.  What the?  I don’t know how many greyhounds were in my group, but this miniature Dachshund did pretty well.  At first, I really thought there might have only been four women running in my age group.  Seventeen women doesn’t seem like a lot compared to other races, but I’ll take what I can get.

I used to be one of those people who didn’t understand running.  Runners, I would scoff.  What the hell do you think you’re doing?  Hello, you’re not heading anywhere…not like me…see?  I’m getting in my car and I will end up at the bakery.  Now that is a real destination!

I was talking to my hair stylist the other day and I told him that I was going to run a 5K on the lot at Universal Studios and that it was going to be fun.  He gave me a Girl, you be crazy look, just like I must have given other people in the past.  Somehow, I crossed over into thinking running was fun.

After the race, my friends and I immediately launched ourselves into the pancake breakfast and enjoyed that feeling of sharing a fun experience together.  What could be better than that?

This Booty Was Made For Walkin’

I don’t have a runner’s body. Not that I have to in order to run. But it was never more evident than when I went to go pick up my bib and race packet for tomorrow’s 5K. The other participants who were picking up their race bibs seemed to be built like greyhounds. Sleek and lean and all arms and legs. It looked like the fat had been carved off of them. I wanted to offer them some of mine. I’m generous that way.

Olympic swimmer and medalist Nathan Adrian said in an article that his body was not made for running. It made me think – what is my body made for? Are somersaults a sport? Because I’m good at the stop, drop and roll thing. I’m built low to the ground and I can scrunch up like a roly poly/pill bug and just roll around and around with the best of them.

Maybe gymnastics. But I’m way too old now, not to mention earthbound. I don’t like my body leaving the ground unless I’m on a flight to Europe.

Am I prepared for the 5K tomorrow? Not exactly. I still can’t run longer than two miles without stopping – and that’s on a flat course. Yesterday, one of my friends sent me an article about how running might be harmful to your heart. Thanks! Just what I needed to motivate myself! I’m sure she means well, but I’m not going to respond. I want to stay positive, not think about my heart giving out on me.

However, if I don’t write about the 5K in the next few days…it means that I’m still on a runner’s high and can’t sit down long enough to post to my blog. See? Thinking positively! Watch out greyhounds – this roly poly will be right on your tails!