Tuesday, July 3, 2012

The One with the First Day of Running

I don't really get along with exercise.  I know you're supposed to do it, I know I could probably lose the random 12 pounds I gained working at the library if I did it. . .but it's just not fun.

But then I saw this: The Color Run.  It looks insane and awesome, and it's a 5k, as opposed to an actual marathon.  I can run a 5k, right?

Well, I can if I work up to it.  I signed D and myself up for the only one in North Carolina this year, and it'll go down in November.  The Color Run's facebook page had a printout of a good way to train yourself for a 5k (I think it's very similar to the "Couch to 5k" workout), so I printed it off and decided to start it this week.

For week one, 3 to 5 times that week, you're supposed to run 60 seconds and walk 90 seconds 8 times.  Sounded doable, I thought.  Yesterday, I came home, ready to get going.

5:09 p.m.:  Twisted ankle walking up to the third floor in heels.  Maybe I won't be starting today.

5:15 p.m.:  Decide ankle will be fine, put on tennis shoes, T-shirt, and shorts.  Can't find a hair tie.

5:18 p.m.:  Track down a hair tie, inexplicably, in the extra bedroom and put hair in ponytail.  Admire the way my last haircut makes the hair in the ponytail look all wavy and cute.  Contemplate what a shame it would be to get sweaty and mess up the hair.

5:19 p.m.:  I can't find any paper on which to write down my musings.  Finally track down a notecard in a box of desk stuff that hasn't been unpacked yet after the move.  Consider staying home and unpacking the desk boxes.

5:20 p.m.:  Test blood sugar.  It's at 126, so I figure that should be fine for an approximately 20-minute run/walk.

5:22 p.m.:  Try to figure out how to use the stopwatch on my phone.  I don't really want to bring the phone with me, but I also don't have a stopwatch.  As it turns out, a phone is going to come in handy.  But at 5:22 p.m., I don't know this yet.  I also check the weather, which is at 90 degrees.  The humidity isn't awful, so I decide I won't die.

5:23 p.m.:  Begin the 7 minute process of trying to get a decent picture of myself before I start.  Ended up pulling some strands of hair out of my ponytail as to not subject viewers to the abject horror that is my enormous forefivehead.

(If you can read what's written on my hand and want to know why I'm running around, literally, with "chicken" written on my hand, it's because I had fully intended to go to BJ's Club after work to pick up chicken because my family was coming over for dinner the next day.  Unfortunately, as I got to the parking lot of BJ's, I remember that D has my debit card, so unless I was going to steal the chicken, I was out of luck.)

5:31 p.m.:  Begin running!  I took a picture of my shoe with my housekey sticking off of it because I thought it looked funny.  Later, this would become Grand Irony.

As I'm running, I'm thinking this isn't so bad.  I completed the first set of 60-running-90-walking without issue.  Then completed the second with just a few thoughts of, "Holy crap, I'm out of shape."

Then, right as the third 60-second running ended, it happened.

5:36 p.m. and 50 seconds:  Shoe comes untied, key flies off shoe into grassy, brushy area.

I heard a "PING!" and look down, and my shoe is untied and my key is gone into the oblivion.  I still have 10 seconds to go on my minute, so I run in place until the 60 seconds is up.  Then I start looking for my brass key, which blends in very well with its surroundings.

5:41 p.m.:  Still haven't found key, so I call D who is, luckily, nearby.  He says he'll be there soon.

5:45 p.m.:  Glad I don't own a stopwatch so I had to bring my phone with me.

5:46 p.m.:  D arrives, helps me in my fruitless search.

5:47 p.m.:  A State Trooper, seeing D's car in the turn lane with the flashers on, stops to ask if we're OK.  I tell him I've lost my key.  He laughs, and tells us to have a good night.

5:49 p.m.:  D tells me that since no one knows where I live, if someone finds the key, they wouldn't know which lock it would open, and it would be OK.  We'll just get a new key.  But then. . .

5:50 p.m.: 

5:52 p.m.:  D leaves and I start running again, figuring I can skip the last 90 second walking since I took a. . .15- or so minute lapse.

5:54 p.m.:  Pickup truck drives by and honks and whistles. 

5:59 p.m.:  I'm feeling pretty crappy, so I decide to walk home (walking's still exercise!) and since the 5k isn't until November, I'll have time to work up to the running.  Maybe I'll take this week and do 4 reps of 60-90 and then go up to 8 next week.

(I took another picture at this point, but I look so gross and sad and pathetic, I refrained from posting.)

6:08 p.m.:  Hobbled up the stairs, knees killing me, and did my blood sugar.  Now I know why I was feeling so crappy.

So much for 126!  I had a juice box and another cup of juice and waited for the blood sugar to go up so I could take a shower without passing out and drowning.

6:32 p.m.:  And then, this happened:

So there's that.

I'm going to attempt this all again tomorrow (Wednesday), and what I have learned is the following:

1.  I probably need some kind of fanny pack to carry my blood sugar kit in.

2.  I either need to take off my insulin pump or suspend it whilst run-walking.

3.  I should probably put my key in the fanny pack.

4.  Always carry a phone.

We'll see what happens on Wednesday.

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