Couch to 5Kick My Ass

I'm not a quitter.
I'm not a "can't".
I'm not a cryer.

Yet a few days ago I cried when I completed the first full workout in my "Couch to 5K" program. Happy tears. Tears of disbelief.

Today I cried again at the end of my workout. Because I didn't finish it. Because it's not coming easy. Because there's no instant gratification. No instant pay off. I've been working out pretty consistently for a week now - compared to practically nothing before. And this morning I weighed MORE. And this morning I couldn't finish two runs. And because this is a lonely process.

As I was dejectedly walking the "cool down" - or as I call it "the only way to get home because no one is going to come pick your sorry ass up" - I felt sorry for myself. I groused over that this was just the "way it was going to be." Life had two courses:

Course One: the course I believed I was on: Career, ladder climber, see how far I could go, no kids, and excellent physical shape. I used to run for FUN. I used to TEACH aerobics and gymnastics and constantly be moving. Catch: Lonely. Only a career to show for your life.

Course Two: Meet someone. Settle down. Have kids. Pick one city and call it home. Pick one job and do whatever you have to do to make it work. Have something to show for your life, and a core group around you. Catch: Be overweight/out of shape, sedentary and have non-stop stress that kicks into higher gear just THINKING about work. (And stress is known to cause weight gain.)

Now that my heart is no longer pounding in my ears, and I've caught my breath and wiped my stupid tears ... and feel sweat still dripping off my back, I know those are the thoughts of a pouting baby. An angry pouting baby who was ready to quit.

Let's be clear. I'm still ready to quit. It's easy to find excuses. I counted on my husband for support, and enjoyed when he ran with me. But last night - when I asked him twice about running and he didn't want to, and I suggested I'd run by myself, then his brain kicked into gear and he insisted on running. Screw you. I didn't run. Mostly because I was mad and didn't want to be around he-who-is-so-stupid-he-doesn't-know-the-answer-is-ALWAYS-yes-if-to-asked-to-run!! And mostly because that anger and annoyance gave me an "out."

But that's another thing. It's not about him. It's not about kids, who I used as "I can't do anything, I've got kids at home." It's not about time. I'm home now in the mornings. With time. It's not about being "too tired." I'm getting to bed at a reasonable time. There are no excuses. None that make any sense.

It's about me. And it has to be about me. For me. I am responsible for my own self. And right now, 80% of my 'self' wants to quit. 20% is tired of being the lone voice of GET OFF YOUR ASS AND MAKE IT HAPPEN.

Quitting is easy. It provides instant gratification, no pain, and less sweat.

I remember being probably about 8 or 10 and climbing one of the tallest mountains in New York with my dad. It's an all day climb with steep terrain. It's hard on adults, much less kids. At one point my dad saw me huffing and puffing and asked if we should turn back. I told him we had made it halfway, and there's no way I wanted to go back now. That used to be me: 100%.
Now, as I mentioned, that drive in me is only at 20% - but fighting to make a comeback.

Never quit.

So, I'm going to channel my anger and frustration and keep trying. No - doing.

I'm going to do it.
There will probably be more tears, and more "quitting" points.
But I'm going to do it.

For me.

COUNTDOWN TO 5K: 57 days.