Run
I think of myself as someone who hates to run. It doesn't feel good, it doesn't feel natural, it doesn't feel right, and yet, I am running. Even when I was a lithe, fit, seventeen-year-old, I hated to run. Even when I signed up for track, I hated running. (I threw discuss very well, but hated the obligatory running part.) I have a vague memory of running down the long driveway toward our house in the woods at the farm (where I sit now) and actually enjoying the sensation, thus I know there were times as a child that I enjoyed moving my body that way, but those days are a long distance in the past. Perhaps I ruined the joy by running and turning it into "exercise," or worse, "a sport," in my mind, but either way, I have disliked the sensation for at least the past twenty-three years that I can recall with certainty.
In the past year, I've had two friends take up running for the first time in their lives and do so successfully. Both of them started out walking with only a little bit of running, and then gradually turned that into running a half-marathon for one and running for forty-five minutes nonstop for the other. I have been so impressed and inspired watching this that I decided to give it a try.
I have had some relatively serious problems with my lower back over the past few years, so I am trying to be very careful about how I go about doing this. For starters, I have no interest in running on concrete -- I don't even like to walk on concrete -- so I am sticking to the packed dirt trails through the fields here at the farm that I've been using as walking trails for quite some time. I am also starting out very, very gradually -- I'm actually shocked that in less than a week I've been able to run one entire length of the field, and tonight it didn't even feel like I was going to float away or pass out afterward, though I did still see the blinking lights.
I don't yet have a stopwatch to time how long I walk versus run, so I am going by distance. Basically, I walk four lengths of the field in some configuration (it is vaguely rectangular with an extra path down the middle that makes it kind of two squares) and then run one length (though I could only run 2/3 of the length the first time) and then walk again. I do that twice. So far, so good - I haven't had any increased pain, and in fact, the pain I have every morning seems to be lasting for a shorter amount of time than usual.
The first time I ran felt incredibly awkward ; remember, I hadn't done this in at least twenty-three years, and then I didn't like it very much and so did very little of it. I told my daughter that I felt like a whale trying to run on its flippers -- it was that awkward -- and I couldn't help but glance around to make sure that no one saw me. I dance a whole lot, and when I do that, I feel graceful and in control of my body; it is a wholly natural act that requires no thought or effort. When I run, not so much.
The second bout of running that first night felt a little (but only a little) less cumbersome, but when I was finished, for a moment I feared that I had done some kind of damage. I saw bursts of light all around me and was momentarily afraid that something in my brain had popped, or that I was about to faint. Um, no -- the lights were objectively there, flying around, blinking, the way fireflies do at dusk when they're trying to mate, thus no apparent harm done.
I'm not sure where this will go or if I will find the same level of success as my two friends have, but I really, really, REALLY want to get in shape, and running has some definite advantages. It is a relatively quick way to exercise for someone with not a lot of extra time, it doesn't require that I go somewhere to do it, it is inexpensive, can be done almost anywhere, and has practical applications in the real world. (I don't like that at the moment I wouldn't even have a chance of outrunning a predator in the wild. Though I've always been a "fight" not a "flight" person, I like to keep my options open.) I would also like to be able to run recreationally with my kids -- I don't like that I couldn't play tag with them, or kickball, or many other things that they enjoy playing.
So, running it is, until my body says otherwise. Next week, I'll be going to one of the local specialty shops to get the right kind of shoes for my body, stride, feet, and running surface, and probably some kind of stop watch to measure intervals, and then I'll be set. I didn't want to invest until I saw if this was something I thought I would actually do, but after a few days of doing it every day, I am starting to enjoy it. The sensation of running that I used to associate with feeling like I was going to die is now one that I associate with living. I like the intensity of pushing my body like that -- I want to see what it can do before it is too late for it to do anything. My body wants a challenge, has been craving a challenge, and running definitely does that, even at this very gradual, slow pace.
This is also good cross-training, I think. Dancing has been my favored form of aerobic exercise for my entire life, and because of that, it is not particularly challenging. I do it in such a way that it is very efficient and have trained myself to always breathe deeply, slowly, and through my nose -- I do not pant when I dance, no matter how fast or for how long I dance. This is great exercise and I love it for a variety of reasons (I sometimes call it "aerobic meditation") but I also need something that really pushes me and feels wholly unnatural -- running fits that bill.
I can envision a day when running may feel as natural as dancing, when I feel like a human on legs galloping across the field as I did in those vague memories of childhood, and not like a beached whale on flippers trying desperately to flop to the other side of the field. It will probably be a while before I stop scanning the field for other family members or potential onlookers (yesterday, my aunt was mowing, so I timed the running parts to occur when she was on the other side of the fence line) but I'll get there… slowly, eventually, and in a way that makes my body happy.
In the past year, I've had two friends take up running for the first time in their lives and do so successfully. Both of them started out walking with only a little bit of running, and then gradually turned that into running a half-marathon for one and running for forty-five minutes nonstop for the other. I have been so impressed and inspired watching this that I decided to give it a try.
I have had some relatively serious problems with my lower back over the past few years, so I am trying to be very careful about how I go about doing this. For starters, I have no interest in running on concrete -- I don't even like to walk on concrete -- so I am sticking to the packed dirt trails through the fields here at the farm that I've been using as walking trails for quite some time. I am also starting out very, very gradually -- I'm actually shocked that in less than a week I've been able to run one entire length of the field, and tonight it didn't even feel like I was going to float away or pass out afterward, though I did still see the blinking lights.
I don't yet have a stopwatch to time how long I walk versus run, so I am going by distance. Basically, I walk four lengths of the field in some configuration (it is vaguely rectangular with an extra path down the middle that makes it kind of two squares) and then run one length (though I could only run 2/3 of the length the first time) and then walk again. I do that twice. So far, so good - I haven't had any increased pain, and in fact, the pain I have every morning seems to be lasting for a shorter amount of time than usual.
The first time I ran felt incredibly awkward ; remember, I hadn't done this in at least twenty-three years, and then I didn't like it very much and so did very little of it. I told my daughter that I felt like a whale trying to run on its flippers -- it was that awkward -- and I couldn't help but glance around to make sure that no one saw me. I dance a whole lot, and when I do that, I feel graceful and in control of my body; it is a wholly natural act that requires no thought or effort. When I run, not so much.
The second bout of running that first night felt a little (but only a little) less cumbersome, but when I was finished, for a moment I feared that I had done some kind of damage. I saw bursts of light all around me and was momentarily afraid that something in my brain had popped, or that I was about to faint. Um, no -- the lights were objectively there, flying around, blinking, the way fireflies do at dusk when they're trying to mate, thus no apparent harm done.
I'm not sure where this will go or if I will find the same level of success as my two friends have, but I really, really, REALLY want to get in shape, and running has some definite advantages. It is a relatively quick way to exercise for someone with not a lot of extra time, it doesn't require that I go somewhere to do it, it is inexpensive, can be done almost anywhere, and has practical applications in the real world. (I don't like that at the moment I wouldn't even have a chance of outrunning a predator in the wild. Though I've always been a "fight" not a "flight" person, I like to keep my options open.) I would also like to be able to run recreationally with my kids -- I don't like that I couldn't play tag with them, or kickball, or many other things that they enjoy playing.
So, running it is, until my body says otherwise. Next week, I'll be going to one of the local specialty shops to get the right kind of shoes for my body, stride, feet, and running surface, and probably some kind of stop watch to measure intervals, and then I'll be set. I didn't want to invest until I saw if this was something I thought I would actually do, but after a few days of doing it every day, I am starting to enjoy it. The sensation of running that I used to associate with feeling like I was going to die is now one that I associate with living. I like the intensity of pushing my body like that -- I want to see what it can do before it is too late for it to do anything. My body wants a challenge, has been craving a challenge, and running definitely does that, even at this very gradual, slow pace.
This is also good cross-training, I think. Dancing has been my favored form of aerobic exercise for my entire life, and because of that, it is not particularly challenging. I do it in such a way that it is very efficient and have trained myself to always breathe deeply, slowly, and through my nose -- I do not pant when I dance, no matter how fast or for how long I dance. This is great exercise and I love it for a variety of reasons (I sometimes call it "aerobic meditation") but I also need something that really pushes me and feels wholly unnatural -- running fits that bill.
I can envision a day when running may feel as natural as dancing, when I feel like a human on legs galloping across the field as I did in those vague memories of childhood, and not like a beached whale on flippers trying desperately to flop to the other side of the field. It will probably be a while before I stop scanning the field for other family members or potential onlookers (yesterday, my aunt was mowing, so I timed the running parts to occur when she was on the other side of the fence line) but I'll get there… slowly, eventually, and in a way that makes my body happy.