Day 40: First Run

3:20 PM | 81° | 1 mile | Time N/A

Yes, I know I’ve been lazy about blogging. With the changes in the weather come the twice-yearly sinus struggles, which these days tend to lay me out. I’ve done all my walking at work (the mile from my building to the parking lot). I realized earlier this week that if I didn’t take the initiative (as opposed to letting God’s irresistible grace draw me), I would never get in that first run.

I’d been waiting until the heat went down before taking that first run, ostensibly to prevent dehydration. At least that’s what I told myself. But lately I’ve been reading John Bingham’s The Courage to Start, and I realized pretty much just what he wrote: I needed to get out and actually get moving. So today that’s what I did.

I followed the advice everyone gives first-time runners and walked the first half-mile as a warm-up. So far, so good, it was all uphill anyway. So I reached the top of the hill (the main entrance to our apartments), turned around, braced myself, and started trotting back.

This could be good, I thought. Wait a minute, what’s that sensation?

You see, my mesh shorts had started to slide off my waist. I hadn’t tied them tightly enough. I’m sure everyone wants to see a 31 year old fat guy trying to run with his shorts down. So I stopped, retied them, and started trotting again.

[Updated: My poor math has been corrected to reflect the correct distances.]
After 1/8 mile, my body (or was it my mind?) said it had had enough. No more. So I stopped, huffing and puffing. The last time I huffed and puffed like that was probably college. So I decided to do another thing they tell all the newbies: run/walk your distance. The next 1/8 mile was walked so I could catch my breath, wherever it had decided to escape to.

Feeling a bit better, I ran the next 1/8 mile to the bottom of the hill and nearly ran over the mailman. Note to self: look up, not down at your feet.

So I stopped there at the bottom and walked the last 1/8 back up the hill to our apartment, and collapsed gratefully on the couch. Immediately Reese’s Cup, our chihuahua, jumped on my lap and started staring worriedly directly into my face. She thought I was about to keel over dead, so in a canine panic she started licking my face.

So I forced myself to get up and take an ice-cold shower. At least I tried to. The run had so addled my brain I forgot which side “cold” was on the shower knob. Nearly scalded myself when I turned it the wrong way and an immediate blast of superheated water kicked me directly in the legs. But I got it corrected. An ice-cold shower never felt so good.

My wife, curse her bones, thought this entire episode was amusing and had this self-righteous Pharisaical smirk on her face from the moment I lumbered back in to the moment I dragged myself out of the shower. She will get hers. I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too.

I’m gonna take 2 days to recover and try again on Monday. I’m pleased with my effort, since I actually got out and ran this time. I think I will make my goal running the entire half mile without stopping.

Meanwhile, we are going to go to Fleet Feet Sports near our church and purchase my first ever running shoes. Then we’re going to Ray Parella’s Italian so I can reward myself on a job well done. After that we’re going to the Trinity football game.

Yes, I know I’ll probably overeat. No, I don’t particularly care. Let me reward myself in peace.