Fitness Freak

I happen to be someone who is constantly making dramatic comments and verbally committing to  life-changing decisions at the snap of my fingers.  One week it could be "I'm not going to drink pop anymore."  (minutes later, I order a Diet Coke from McDonald's, where I am not supposed to eat - ever again).  The next week, I might decide "I'm going to keep my house in pristine condition at all times" (if you've ever visited me, you may draw your own conclusions on the result of this).  I may have grandiose notions but no time or inclination to carry them out.

This week's firm resolution is "I'm going to run a half-marathon".

After enough of these exaggerated, ridiculous statements, I have become the "girl who cried nonsense".  No one believes I will stop drinking pop, clean up, or even have the energy to run out of my house if it was on fire.  A half-marathon is like saying, "I'm going to go climb up the side of that water tower, jump off and land in some size two jeggings."

Nonetheless, I was motivated enough this evening to print off a pre-fab (not to be confused with pre-flab) training schedule.  I envisioned myself running around town in my training (oddly enough, in my vision, I am always tan and much taller).  Though, the Rocky soundtrack going on in my head came to an abrupt halt when I read that Day 1 required me to run 3 m.  I first thought that meant three minutes.  But then looking down on the chart, that would mean after 12 weeks, I would build up to running ten minutes - which is hardly half-marathon ready.  Then it dawned on me... Monday running meant three miles!  To me, that is as ludicrous as me waking up tomorrow and realizing that my Civic has magically morphed into a Lexis SUV.  I am in no way exaggerating when I say it is very unlikely that I could even run for five minutes straight.

Suddenly my dreams of uber-fitness and an attractive tan came crashing down on me.  Not only do I not have the stamina, but when in the world would I find the time to casually run ten miles?  (this is assuming a miracle happens and I make it to Week 12).  I get off work at 7:00 pm and immediately come home to put my kids to bed.  So, in order to make my training a reality, I should then step outside at 8 pm, in the dark and run around for two hours.

** This blog was momentarily interrupted by some violent cat vomit sounds coming from the kitchen that required my investigation.**

Picking up where I left off...  But then again, the reasons for taking up such a challenge have come back to knock on my brain.  At the present, I do no kind of physical activity.  If at some point, an attacker was trying to chase me down and murder me, I would only be able to run away for approximately 30 seconds before I would have to stop and vomit, and then immediately after get killed.  This would make me really mad.  If I had properly trained, my assailant would have to run after me for 13 miles before I would be overcome.

So, in an effort to get healthy, get tan (this really doesn't correlate, but let me live in a fantasy world), and avoid getting murdered, I'm going to continue on in my foolish goal.  I am training for a half-marathon!  Tomorrow, I am going to either run 3 minutes or 3 miles.

Perhaps, I will update you on my progress in the future.  Maybe you'll see me on the cover of Shape magazine.  Or if I decide not to follow through, I will never mention this again...

Here is a recent picture of me running 13 miles (hopefully this girl doesn't see her picture on here and try to kick my buttocks.  She could for sure outrun me and then kill me):