Runner

Tough, lean bodies in tight-fitting workout gear and bright coloured sneakers.  A few have focused looks on their faces so intimidating, others veer off the path to make room.  Some of us openly want to be them, some of us loathe them, and some of us pretend to loathe while secretly wishing we too were a runner.

If you're at all overweight, the idea of running can be pretty terrifying.  It won't be a hard body with perfectly sculpted muscles and bouncy pony tales that blazes trails through the forest.  Instead, it may feel more like jello bouncing around in spandex sausage casings.  Even in private, the imagery is scary, but to take it on the road and showcase it to everyone?  I'm tempted to toss the sneakers into the closet and be done with it.

My experience with running has had its ups and downs.  In elementary school, our gym teacher pushed at everyone to join the cross-country and track teams.  I bowed to the pressure and started to run.  It hurt.  My lungs burned, my knees ached and sweat stung my eyes.  20+ years later, I still remember the pain.  I also remember the glory.  I remember beating out the fastest runner in our school during a 400m practice and feeling so proud!  I remember training for sprints at night on our court while my mom insisted on keeping a conversation going for safety as I ran around the trees and bushes (this was during Paul Bernardo days). 

Fast-forward 15 years and I signed up to train for my first 5km.  Most of it sucked, but there were 2 runs that kept me going: finishing the 5km race we trained for and during one of  the training runs.  Our local YMCA held the clinic and running down a local side street, I finally found that natural high that keeps runners coming back.  And then just as quickly, it was gone.

I longed to feel that again, running without pain and just enjoying every step.  My lungs finally working in tandem with my body.  So, stupidly, I signed up for half-marathon training.  I say stupidly because I wasn't in any condition to push for such a long distance.  I should have done more shorter races.  Weight had crept back onto my frame and I hadn't kept up with my running.  After each weekend training, I hurt so badly I couldn't contemplate running until the next weekend.  Walking was excruciating as my feet cramped and ached every time I put weight on them.  As the distance increased, so did the pain.  A week's recovery wasn't cutting it anymore.  After running a 12 mile route, my body threw in the towel.  I blew my ankle.  Angry and relieved, I walked (more like hobbled) away from running.

I didn't want to give up completely, so a couple years ago, I started out again.  I pushed to meet the 1 minute walk/1 minute run timings that everyone says should be the beginning.  The pain came back fast and I gave up.  Again.  Frustrated and annoyed, I said my goodbyes to running.

But the idea of running just wouldn't die.  Every so often I'd look up training calendars and wonder if I could get back into it again.  And every time I saw the programs I felt defeated because I knew my body couldn't handle it.  Overweight, damaged feet, and problematic knees won out against all the suggested training schedules. 

A few weeks ago I pulled out the running shoes to go for a walk.  That's all I intended it to be, but as I got closer to home, I decided to try a jog for a short time.  Hmmm, no pain.  Discomfort yes, as my body tried to coordinate itself and adjust to the new gait, but not painful.  So I made a decision:  Screw the  books, magazines, websites, and friendly advice.  It was time to do something I haven't done in a long time and listen to the one resource that made sense...my body.  If I wanted to run, it would be on my terms, not someone else's.

This morning I pulled out the work-out gear and dusted off the sneakers.  I put the timer on my phone, not as a restriction or goal, but rather to see how much I could handle today.  I walked when I wanted to walk, and jogged when I could handle it.  23 minutes later, I hadn't a clue what my ratio of walk to run was, or how far I'd gone.  It didn't matter that people saw me jiggling my way across the street or that I couldn't go for hours.  For those 23 minutes, I forgot about being judged and just enjoyed being a runner.

Outside Looking In

There's dust everywhere.  The bathroom needs cleaned, the kitchen needs a wipe down and things are scattered about.  It feels like being trapped in a small confined space with no solution to the clutter and dirt.  This is how my apartment has felt to me these past few weeks.

While my schedule isn't nearly as chaotic now as it was a month ago, I still find it hard to schedule in time to keep everything in pristine order.  I get so caught up in what's wrong with my home, I forget what's right with it.

Tonight is the first time in a long time that I have been able to sit outside and enjoy the twilight on my balcony.  Candles sit burning on the window sill and the dying light casts long shadows.  As the darkness sets in, I glance into my apartment though the balcony windows and it hits me...

Yes, the couch could use some tidying, but why hadn't I noticed how much I liked the colour?  Or how tall my money tree had grown?  The space looks so comfy and loved.  There are pillow and blankets strewn about invitingly and the bright colours from my hanging pot holders compliment my placemats.

My mind wanders on and I'm sitting here pondering, how much of this could we apply to ourselves?  We all know the common phrases like "you're your own worst critic".  We think poorly of ourselves and critically analyze everything that's wrong and imperfect.  How often do we consider the perspective of someone on the outside looking at us?  Would we have a different opinion?

To us, those wrinkles under our eyes are warning signs that aging is unavoidable, but a stranger may see the lines of decades of laughter.  We see our failures and inadequacies and friends remember times where we provided support and love.

Personally, I don't know that I will ever completely stop critiquing myself, but I hope I can remember to take time to consider what it's like to be on the outside looking in.  Others who look at us see love...we should too.

A Healthy Fridge

It is amazing how much junk can hide in the fridge and I am not just talking about sticky surfaces, decomposing onion peels, and forgotten condiments.  I'm talking about the kinds of foods that have artificial sweeteners, chemicals we can't pronounce and impossibly long expiration dates.

With the arrival of spring and the promise of summer, it felt amazing today to clear out the clutter and get back to basics.  For me, that includes free run eggs, yogurt, hummus, fresh cheese and loads of fresh fruits and veggies.

There is still room for improvement and growth.  Making my own hummus, for example.  These things will come in time, but it's a good start for now.

If you're looking to update the contents of your fridge, or just get into eating more healthily, there are a lot of good blogs and websites that can start you off.   RealSimple.com has a guide on stocking a healthy refridgerator, and the Food Network's Healthy Eats blog talks about what to stock and what to skip

If you're looking to cut down on pop, but want something other than plain water, try cutting up thin slices of cucumbers or lemons and adding them to water or plain club soda.

My favourite find so far has been Pink Muscat grapes.  Green grapes can be a bit sour and red ones not as sweet.  These grapes have the best of both worlds and are easy to find in Longo's, or Fortinos at this time of the year.