Chapter Six - In Which Our Heroine Finds a New Training Tool

I have discovered a whole new kind of torture in my training travails: the Hash Run.

For those of you unaware of what a Hash Run is, kindly allow me to explain. A Hash Run combines two of my current favorite things: running and beer. In a Hash Run, the Hares set off to mark a trail that the rest of the Hashers have to follow to two specific points: the halfway point, where there's beer; and the On After, where there's beer. However, the Hares also tend to "fuck" Hashers by sending them off the right trail, which can lead to some frustration and a little bit of the dry heaves. All in all, you end up running approximately four miles and making approximately forty new friends.

So, I participated in such a run last night. It was kind of a kick in the ass, I'll admit, as today I feel as if I have been hit by a mack truck and then pummeled with a two by four. But I enjoyed it so much that I think I'm going back for more on Thursday. Until then, I've also decided to continue my training outdoors from now own. Stay tuned for more pain-induced rants.

Chapter Five - In Which Our Heroine Falls Off the Wagon, But Not on Purpose

I'm two days into my fourth week of training, and I'm realizing that I am looking forward to running more and more every day. Don't get me wrong, I'm nowhere near loving it yet, but I have two and a half more months to get there. I am experiencing a touch of the elusive "runner's high" that so many people talk about. Someone was telling me a few weeks ago that the runner's high is similar (but not the same) to an orgasm. I asked if that's why I've been getting a strange case of the chills/cold sweats halfway during my runs. She said that I'm probably experiencing my own kind of beginner's runner's high. I was so proud of that.

Which is why it's so surprising how easy it is to fall out of a routine, no matter how much you enjoy it. Last Tuesday evening I went running with Elyssa. It was only the second time I had been running outside, but the first time was at the running loop by her apartment, which is relatively flat ground. Tuesday night, we went running through a neighborhood on the beach towards the boardwalk and back again. All in all, it was about three and a half miles of not necessarily rugged terrain, but uneven terrain at best.

I'm sure everyone knows by now what a shoddy athlete I am, and because I'm such a piss-poor runner, I obviously don't know how to stretch properly. Because even though I DID stretch, I swear it!, I obviously didn't stretch enough, because the shin splints I experienced the next day made me hope and pray for an epidural-free birthing process instead.

Not only that, but my Superwoman-wannabe self thought that cross-training by playing tennis that evening would be the PERFECT remedy for my injury. Adding insult to injury - literally - was the unexpected one mile walk to the tennis court, a two hour "game", and the still-unexpected one mile walk back from the tennis court. Ouch.

Needless to say, Thursday's intense bouts of pain precluded me from my anticipated run that evening. In fact, Friday's intense bouts of pain did, too. Now, there's absolutely no reason that I couldn't have just gotten right back on the horse Saturday, but Friday EVENING'S debauchery left me couch-ridden for the majority of the day and early evening. Sunday saw me grabbing coffee with Diva in South Beach in the afternoon. Again, I had every intention of running that evening, but socializing (something I've done so little of since I started training) won out once again.

So that brings me to Monday. Right? Wrong. I was ready to run. No more pain in my legs, no more hangover, no more opportunities to hang out with cute new man specimens. What's more, I was looking forward to it. Tropical Storm Fay had other plans. Between yesterday and today, I've been cooped up in one building or another, avoiding the storm and most unfortunately NOT running.

Which brings me back to my original point: I've missed running. It's only been a few days, but I've noticed in those few days that running has been my pro bono therapist. Besides my physical injuries of the past week, my personal life has been a whirlwind of bullshit sprinkled with crap. Being stuck in between two semi-feuding friends, ending a pseudo-relationship that did nothing but cause me aggravation, and wrestling with a whole other set of mucked up feelings for someone else... all those things go away when I run. The only thing I concentrate on while I'm out there is breathing enough to stay alive and not stepping on that small rock coming up ahead. Making sure I put one foot in front of the other and that I judge the upcoming curve in the road correctly so I don't run off the side (I would do something like that).

I miss running. I can't wait to go back to running. Tomorrow, I go running.

Chapter Four - In Which Our Heroine Wonders Why Results Can't Be Immediate, Dammit?!

This is only the second day of my third week of training, but I feel like I've been training my whole life, and I still don't see myself making it much past five miles.

I ran outside for the second time today, with Elyssa. We "ran" the four mile loop by her house yesterday, but I use the term "ran" loosely. Very loosely. More like "walked really quickly and pretended to run when people passed us, then slowed back to a walk when they were gone". What? I was having a lazy day.

Today, however, today was a completely different story. For the most part, we ran the better part of three miles. Hellooooo, lactic acid! I'm feeling it in my calves and thighs already.

It's kind of amazing, because everyday I come home wondering if I'm really up for this and whether or not I can keep doing it. And everyday I keep running. I think I can kind of, halfway understand why runners do this.

Not saying I'm a runner or anything.

Just saying I think I can understand it.

Chapter Three - In Which Our Heroine Realizes She Needs to Post a Bit More Often

So I believe I may have figured out why I hit that ever-looming wall so damn hard this week: I'm not a runner.

Yes, I know the phrase "no shit, Sherlock" comes to mind, but bare with me. I'm not a runner. So OBVIOUSLY I don't know how to train like a runner. I found out I wasn't running upright (which brought to mind visions of me running with my knuckles dragging on the ground), and also, I wasn't stretching properly. And by properly I mean at all.

So I stood up straight just like Mamadukes has always told me to, and began stretching much more intensely before every run. Things have been fine since. At least with the running.

The weight training on the other hand, well, that's another story. Usually weight training is not really a problem for me. In fact, I quite enjoy weight training, much more so than cardio, which I'm sure I've made clear is the bane of my existence. Well, I've been training with Elyssa at her apartment gym a lot lately. She lives in an exclusive Aventura high-rise with a pretty bad-ass in-house gym. The other day I decided that I would venture out of the realm of upper body strength machines and low number free weights and use a complicated-looking cable and pulley system that has been looming from the far wall of the gym since I started training.

Now don't get me wrong, I've seen said contraption at other gyms before, namely at Agustina's apartment gym. However, there is a notoriously good-looking tattooed guy who infuriatingly hogs said machine and makes all kinds of ridiculous grunting noises and slams the weights down. I hate him. He has these teeny tiny little legs, and a disproportionately large upper body... probably because he literally spends hours upon hours hogging this cable pulley contraption.

Anydamnway, I decided to use the cable pulley system at Elyssa's gym. I've used this machine before, mostly for tricep work, but there were some other exercises I had seen the machine used for that I was pretty eager to try. One involved bringing the pulleys from behind me to in front of me, and in essence working my entire arm, chest, and upper back. Well, I obviously thought that I was stronger than I really am, because the minuscule amount of weight I was attempting to move was way more than I am actually capable of lifting. I knew almost immediately when I felt a burning, ripping sensation in my right upper chest that I was wrong about how strong I was. I kind of ignored it, lessened the weight, and suffered through the rest of the workout.

The next day, I realized I had met my match in that damn pulley machine. I desperately tried to swim Saturday morning, like I usually do on cross-training days. Yeah, right. I got about ten minutes worth of that done before I almost threw up from pain. I lumbered around the house all day today, massaging it and Icy Hot-ing the crap out of it. I knew there was no way I would be able to run today. It's feeling much better now, so I'm going to have to combine my four-mile run scheduled for today with my strength training tomorrow.

Ask for me on Tuesday and you shall find me a grave girl.

Chapter Two - In Which Our Heroine Begins to Wonder If This is Normal?

I have just completed my first week of training. I ache. I'm tired. I have constant headaches from the intense and constant upper back, shoulder, and neck muscle constriction. I don't sleep well because of the strange mixture of pain and constant adrenaline. I'm wondering when it's going to stop because I can't take it much longer. The running itself doesn't bother me much. The cross-training and the strength training don't affect me negatively either. Every part of my life is significantly healthier now more than ever, so why do I feel so bad? I desperately don't want to quit, but I'm not sure this kind of reaction is normal.

Yesterday I advanced up to four miles at a stretch. Thank God tomorrow I go back down to three. Never thought I would say that.