Blogging the Jogging ~ Entry #1

Jogging: My Memory...

I gotta admit, I have a love-hate relationship with running. I love the idea of being a runner but I hate doing it. It all goes back to my elementary school days and the dreaded "mile". It was something we had to do every year and was always at the top of the list of my absolute least favorite gym-class activities. I had a horrible experience of it every year, huffing and puffing my way thru so as not to get a low grade and bring down my all "A" average. I was the overweight, outta-breath kid that always came in last. Usually the coach would have pity on me and grade me on my sincere effort and not my pathetic results. They could see that I really did try.

The culmination of my aversion to running came in high school. My coach despised overweight kids and punished us for our excessive girth. She knew I was an "A" student and would threaten me with a fail grade if I did not meet minimum standards for the "Presidential" testing we had to do that year. We had to run the mile in 12 minutes or less to pass gym exams that semester and passing meant a "D" grade on my final. The shorter the time, the closer to the "A" bracket, the longer, the closer to the "F". Until that day, my best time for the mile was a 15 minute mile I had done in the 4th grade.

We could repeat the test as many times as we wanted to that week in order to get our best time, but we must complete it in 12 minutes or less to be able to accept the grade and go do archery with the rest of the class. I was determined to do my very best. The first day, when I ran with the entire class, I came in last, with a time of 16 minutes and 50 seconds. I was exhausted, frustrated and devastated. It seemed like it was gonna be impossible. I stopped several times to walk and catch my breath. My coach insisted that I hadn't even tried and I would need put forth more effort the next day if I was going to get a passing grade and be able to participate in the archery segment of class.

I got some rest and tried again the next day with about 5 other people that had failed or wanted to retake the test. I ran my heart out. Literally. OK, not literally, but I pushed myself until I felt like I had. Once again, I came in last. But as I crossed the finish line, my coach yelled out my time: 12 minutes and 20 seconds. I dropped to the ground as soon as I finished and proceeded to have my first and only exercise-induced asthma attack. While I was lying there on the ground, in pain and unable to breathe, my entire class was standing over me with fear in their eyes, and I had tears in mine. Not because of the pain, not even because of the humiliation. It was pure joy. I was so proud of myself. I had pushed myself to the limit and I had triumphed. It had just gotten the best time on the mile in my life. I had just beat the previous day's time by over 4 minutes. As I was lying there, struggling for air, I saw my coach push her way through the gathered, hovering group of my concerned classmates...

'I knew you could do better than what I've been seeing from you. You were only 20 seconds away from a passing grade. You were so close, I'm positive you'll be able to do it tomorrow.'

She proceeded to tell everyone that I'd be fine if they gave me time to catch my breath and they should leave me alone and hit the showers. I was crushed. I was the only one that continued to do the mile the next 2 days of school. I was so physically weak and in pain from my exertion the previous days, that my times got higher and higher as my morale got lower and lower. I finally told my coach that I had reached my physical and emotional limit and I would just accept the failing grade. She begrudgingly agreed, but added that if I was too weak to complete my running test, that I was too weak to carry the bow and arrow for archery, so she insisted that I sit on the sidelines and watch.

The fact that I remember that event in such detail over a decade later shows how much of an effect it had on me. I haven't done much running since. I can do spinning, kickboxing, or boot camp classes for an hour or more, but can't jog for more than a minute without feeling that awful tightening in my chest. Maybe the reaction is psychosomatic; I'm almost positive that it is.

In order to reach my goal of completing a 5K this year (3.1 miles! Am I crazy?!), I'll need to start my training soon. I have already started looking for the proper running shoes and sports bra for an overweight beginner. I have "favorited" my online Couch to 5K training program and I've chosen a race. I watched a documentary on running recommended by my brother (Spirit of the Marathon--- http://www.hulu.com/spirit-of-the-marathon) and I am inspired.

My goals are simple:
1) to complete the "Couch to 5K" training program;
2) to volunteer at a 5K race;
3) to complete a 5K race in 35-40 minutes (about 12 min. per mile); and
4) to NOT come in last place! (OK, so maybe that'd just be a bonus.)

I am determined to win this lifelong battle with running once and for all, kick my weight loss into high gear and be the fittest, healthiest version of myself that I have ever been. I am fighting back against diabetes, heart disease, obesity and depression. This isn't gonna be easy.

I've got a long, hard road ahead of me. And I'm taking you all along with me. Step by step.