Survival of the (un) Fittest

Week 2

Yep, two miles is definitely more than one or 1.5 miles but we survived the 24 degree elements last Saturday morning, albeit we were late for  warm-ups.  Getting used to this eight o'clock arrival when there is no parking in site for many square blocks on end means we will need to set the alarm for predawn and make the 2 mile trek to the "Y" around 7:30 instead.  All wake-up calls and travel snafus aside the 30 seconds of warm-up seemed sufficient as wifey and I  settled into the rear of the 200 person or so pack from the parking lot of The Jefferson.  Again, I needed to break from the claustrophobic morass of high-tech dressed pseudo-runners in their sleek designer, aerodynamic, skin-tight "look at me, I'm  Nouveau Riche" attire.  Meanwhile Staci and I are still donned more or less in PE clothing although we did break down and get her an ear-muff headband thingy and runners gloves (what will the they think of next?) and I sported a new pair of warm-up pants we bought last Friday (and swim goggles and swim suit!) since I got tired having to pick off infinite amounts of dog hair from my VCU sweatpants.  My fleece jacket, however, makes up for that in a big way in the dog hair attracting arena.  It might just be time to groom these hair shedding champions just a bit more, eh?

I had contacted one of the trainers about my never-ending left-calf saga who gave me all the standard advice about warming up and taking it easy.  I don't know about you but when I jog I need to at least run fast enough to give me the impression that I am covering ground in a pseudo-timely fashion.  I just can't do the walk/jog 18 inches at a time trot.  It'd take me 3 hours to go 100 yards. It was cold, I was getting hungry and I needed to make reservations for March Madness In Vegas.  You know, priorities and all.  Again, I left wifey to her own devices and iPod while I set my pace, more or less, in between the frequent stops to walk since the sidewalk was clogged with LOTS of 18 inch striders.  It took maybe a half mile before things thinned out enough that I had my own space and could settle into the beat of my stride.  

Now this lap around Richmond had us heading slightly uphill along Franklin Street through the heart of the Monroe Park campus of VCU toward Stuart Circle then back down the same way on the other side of the street right pass my office.  There were intermittent stops along the way because of traffic but the trainers were all positioned as monitors at the intersections to make sure all could cross without getting squished.  In the beginning, the traffic annoyed me because it would stop me just when I was getting into the rhythm but by the time I was headed back toward home base I got to hoping we'd have to stop just so I could relieve the dull cramping of my hips, since going downhill really accentuates the pounding I was giving them.  I admit I had to walk a couple of times going back for 50 feet or so before picking it back up again.  Pride aside, I really didn't mind girls passing me so long as they didn't snicker at my wheezing.   Eventually I made up my mind to NOT stop anymore unless forced by traffic. 

I'm surprised how many cars were on the road in the eight o'clock hour.  I mean it was Saturday morning.  Weren't most sane people sleeping in or sleeping it off?  Really, how many crappy jobs are there that force people to drive into work on a Saturday early-morning?  No sane person is even going to shop at those types of places before 10:30 at the earliest.  Have a heart crappy job-owners!  Let us partial insane runners/walkers/18-inch striders have some room to operate on these city streets!  Besides nobody has any money to spend.  It's already gone to high-end running apparel  fashion designers and overseas shoe-making sweat shops by the looks of things on my end.  Yes, these are the musings that run through my head as I try to concentrate on anything but my aching lower body as I crossed Belvedere for the second time (good ol' Route 1 for any of you non-Richmonder's out there).  One last moderate downhill incline then a short uphill climb back to the parking lot where trainers were urging us on.  This time I actually fought through the proverbial "wall" and finished in the middle of the pack I guess.  I never noticed the people I passed along the run only that I saw that the parking lot wasn't nearly as full as when we started.  Perhaps some just kept jogging straight to their cars.  Meanwhile I caught my breath and found a curb to stretch my calves while waiting for Staci.  She showed up five or so minutes later beaming that she had run two miles for the first time ever in her life and was raring to run some more if need be.  I was not so gung-ho as her.  I was more interested in finding water and dreaming of how long Xtend would take before repairing my sore legs.


OK, the good news after a week of this self-imposed torture:  My mouth and throat were not nearly as dry and parched as last week, but that may have been from sucking in all the fog that was abundant so early in the morn.  I was able to catch my breath a whole lot faster after finishing--I wasn't a lung cancer patient after all.  My lower extremities, though sore, seemed to recover better now that they are getting used to this 5-times a week abuse.  The walk back to the car was not as pitiful.  Perhaps my legs are getting a tad stronger from all this?  Staci's hamstrings were taut but even she is noticing the Xtend is working toward alleviating that without having to gimp around for two days following a run.   We are both sleeping better and feeling far more rested when awake.  People have noticed are faces are slimmer even though we haven't noticed any weight decline.  Staci has noticed some inches around her middle are disappearing and I confirm that when I hug her--my arms go around her more.  Our recovery time seems to be speeding up, but I still contend that Xtend may be the next miracle drug (thanks Hotzee for your body-building tip!) Most importantly though, I secured flights and rooms at the Tropicana for five days for March Madness in Vegas after breakfast at The Village.


The only bad news to report was our Saturday night bi-monthly celebration whereby our alcohol tolerance levels may now be at an all-time low.  We've made the conscious decision not to drink during the week anymore or when we have the kids, so that leaves only two Saturdays a month to go out and play with all our 20-something friends.  Fridays are out because we have to run so early on Saturdays nowadays.  So now a few glasses of wine, beer, liquor or shots (bury me with a bottle of Jamison's please) has much less resistance to alter thy brain.  Needless to say Sunday was a bust!  Much of it was spent flipping channels between a Mike Tyson Marathon of his early fights, basketball games and movies (Hot Tub Time Machine was WAY funnier than I would have guessed).  Staci has newly sworn never to drink (like that) again. Yes, we still need to grout the new tile in the pantry and the refrigerator is nearly empty.  Most of my energies were spent clipping coupons and doing laundry.  But at least my legs didn't hurt.  I was REM sleeping by 10:30.


Tonight we're supposed to run/walk an easy two miles.  I think I'm gonna try the treadmill with wifey as a change of pace and see how that grabs me.  I'm not very versed on a treadmill and I half expect to be thrown off the back end at some point.  At least it'll have all the fancy gadgets to entertain me and tell me my exact mileage.  Now if someone can tell me how to listen to the TV's  via the radio frequency they profess that would be a major accomplishment.  Else it'll be back to listening to some of the 2300 songs on the old iPod trying NOT to sing out loud or trying to imitate the slew of 90 pound, underweight, excessive calorie burner, they-should-be-studying, pre-20 year old's that think a cupcake will make them go up two dress sizes so I better run 20 miles tonight, future social security/medicare non-receivers. 

No, I'm not bitter.