Oh, dear. The last three months (ever since I went on that fire call), I have been doing virtually nothing exercise related. Between all the work I had to do for moving, actually moving, trying to get organized and still in the early stages of moving while the kids were already trying to get on a school routine, then the terrible, terrible smoke that made running outside something of a health hazard, plus several illnesses for me and the kids, I just hadn't made it a priority.
The last couple of weeks, I'd been doing some minor strength-training routines just to get myself back into the habit and start making a little progress (and I usually start with strength training, because, lets face it, even when I'm thin I'm built more for force than for speed or distance. . .sigh. But, hey, it can be nice to build muscle relatively quickly and be stronger than most chicks even when I'm horribly out of shape). So this morning, my alarm went off at six, and I couldn't face the cold. I just need to buck up and deal with it, but I wasn't quite there. So I waited til it "warmed up"--Keira and I left the house at 8:30 (Kylie is hanging out with her cousin and auntie this week), when it had warmed up to a balmy 36*. Keira was bundled quite well in the jogging stroller, and I was wearing a hoody and it was clear, dry and very sunny, so the temperature actually wasn't a problem, and, as most high-mountain mornings are, it was gorgeous outside.
But I thought about dying anyway. Or at least quitting. I was not yet in good shape when I stopped exercising, and now its been months since I did anything, and so I start jogging at 5330 feet--yes, more than a mile high. Eek. I got back to the house after 25 minutes, and I was done. I started to think I was remembering past running experiences inaccurately. In Lindsay, I was up to about three miles a day when I was going to McDermott. When I was living in San Luis (the year I wasn't pregnant), I was running a couple miles most days, and it didn't seem hard or long at all. When I was living in Hawaii, I thought I was running five miles a day, because I wouldn't wake up til six, and then I'd go for a run and have time to come back and shower, put on makeup and do some homework before my 8am class, or throw on a change of clothes before my 7am class. Yeah, that's the other thing--I'd go for a run, and then go to a 50-minute dance class. It just didn't seem reasonably possible, so I came home and used Google maps to retrace my old running routes, thinking maybe they were shorter than I thought. Turns out that one was 5.8miles round trip, the other was 6.1miles. And I'd run them in a little less than 50 minutes. That just made me feel like more of a loser than I already did.
Of course, I was at sea level, I was 18, and I had not been through four pregnancies and was consequently not trying to run a household and raise four kids, I just had to worry about me. I've never gotten back to that mileage (certainly not that time!) since, but I have had years in between pregnancies where I've been up to 2-4 miles a day and it didn't seem like this big a deal (that may be part of my problem--Keira is 18 months, and that's about the longest I have not been pregnant in 9 years). So here's hoping I can get over the pain of getting started.
Ok, that was a long post just to complain. I promise I won't do that again. No more running/exercise updates. I just figure that this way I get the complaining out of my system, but no one has to listen to me if they don't want to. So bless you if you made it this far.
The last couple of weeks, I'd been doing some minor strength-training routines just to get myself back into the habit and start making a little progress (and I usually start with strength training, because, lets face it, even when I'm thin I'm built more for force than for speed or distance. . .sigh. But, hey, it can be nice to build muscle relatively quickly and be stronger than most chicks even when I'm horribly out of shape). So this morning, my alarm went off at six, and I couldn't face the cold. I just need to buck up and deal with it, but I wasn't quite there. So I waited til it "warmed up"--Keira and I left the house at 8:30 (Kylie is hanging out with her cousin and auntie this week), when it had warmed up to a balmy 36*. Keira was bundled quite well in the jogging stroller, and I was wearing a hoody and it was clear, dry and very sunny, so the temperature actually wasn't a problem, and, as most high-mountain mornings are, it was gorgeous outside.
But I thought about dying anyway. Or at least quitting. I was not yet in good shape when I stopped exercising, and now its been months since I did anything, and so I start jogging at 5330 feet--yes, more than a mile high. Eek. I got back to the house after 25 minutes, and I was done. I started to think I was remembering past running experiences inaccurately. In Lindsay, I was up to about three miles a day when I was going to McDermott. When I was living in San Luis (the year I wasn't pregnant), I was running a couple miles most days, and it didn't seem hard or long at all. When I was living in Hawaii, I thought I was running five miles a day, because I wouldn't wake up til six, and then I'd go for a run and have time to come back and shower, put on makeup and do some homework before my 8am class, or throw on a change of clothes before my 7am class. Yeah, that's the other thing--I'd go for a run, and then go to a 50-minute dance class. It just didn't seem reasonably possible, so I came home and used Google maps to retrace my old running routes, thinking maybe they were shorter than I thought. Turns out that one was 5.8miles round trip, the other was 6.1miles. And I'd run them in a little less than 50 minutes. That just made me feel like more of a loser than I already did.
Of course, I was at sea level, I was 18, and I had not been through four pregnancies and was consequently not trying to run a household and raise four kids, I just had to worry about me. I've never gotten back to that mileage (certainly not that time!) since, but I have had years in between pregnancies where I've been up to 2-4 miles a day and it didn't seem like this big a deal (that may be part of my problem--Keira is 18 months, and that's about the longest I have not been pregnant in 9 years). So here's hoping I can get over the pain of getting started.
Ok, that was a long post just to complain. I promise I won't do that again. No more running/exercise updates. I just figure that this way I get the complaining out of my system, but no one has to listen to me if they don't want to. So bless you if you made it this far.
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