operation: off my ass!
I've been psyching myself up for running for a while now. It's the best way, I know, to lose the weight that I really, really want to shed.
And after listening to the military and exercise-savvy civilian people that I work with - and spent all weekend with - talking about exercise ("PT", in military slang), I finally just told myself that psyching myself up doesn't make me lose anything. So last night, after getting home, I got my sweats, stretched, and took off.
I got pretty much nowhere. I think it's like, point-two miles or so to the top of the hill by my house? By the time I got there, to the street sign, I was done. My legs were still ready for anything, but my lungs were freeze-dried, my right side was hurting for reasons I couldn't articulate but wanted to appease anyway, and my ankles are more used to walking in heels than the impact of running. So after I got to the top, I walked around for a minute, and ran back the same way I came... downhill was a whole lot easier, even if I had to be more careful.
I got back, and I felt nauseous, weak, and exhausted. I passed right the hell out really quickly. I mean, like, "lay-down-on-bed-out-like-a-light-I'm-just-glad-my-shoes-came-off-first" passed out. I had a little water before losing consciousness. I'm proud of myself for that.
I woke up twenty minutes ago and lay there for fifteen minutes without opening my eyes. I still feel it. I mean, running less than a half-mile? Time was, that wouldn't even register. This exercise completely kicked my ass.
Tonight, I'll make it past the street sign there. One day is good, no question. Two is better. The whole week is even better. Forging a habit is best. But right now, I'm focused on the street sign.
-Allison is proud of herself for microscopic achievements
And after listening to the military and exercise-savvy civilian people that I work with - and spent all weekend with - talking about exercise ("PT", in military slang), I finally just told myself that psyching myself up doesn't make me lose anything. So last night, after getting home, I got my sweats, stretched, and took off.
I got pretty much nowhere. I think it's like, point-two miles or so to the top of the hill by my house? By the time I got there, to the street sign, I was done. My legs were still ready for anything, but my lungs were freeze-dried, my right side was hurting for reasons I couldn't articulate but wanted to appease anyway, and my ankles are more used to walking in heels than the impact of running. So after I got to the top, I walked around for a minute, and ran back the same way I came... downhill was a whole lot easier, even if I had to be more careful.
I got back, and I felt nauseous, weak, and exhausted. I passed right the hell out really quickly. I mean, like, "lay-down-on-bed-out-like-a-light-I'm-just-glad-my-shoes-came-off-first" passed out. I had a little water before losing consciousness. I'm proud of myself for that.
I woke up twenty minutes ago and lay there for fifteen minutes without opening my eyes. I still feel it. I mean, running less than a half-mile? Time was, that wouldn't even register. This exercise completely kicked my ass.
Tonight, I'll make it past the street sign there. One day is good, no question. Two is better. The whole week is even better. Forging a habit is best. But right now, I'm focused on the street sign.
-Allison is proud of herself for microscopic achievements