Tuesday, September 27, 2011

After All, Rule #1 is Cardio

I trained dog-less Saturday morning. (he got walkies afterward) 
I got up in the morning (hooray!) and jog-walked, starting out slowly, as several sources have advised me.  I find its so hard to catch my breath.  The internet (RunnersWorld, etc.) tells me this is because I need to slow my pace.  This is ...  I mean... I can't go any slower, my pace is laughable as it is. 

It just highlights how out of shape I am, I guess.  This is a serious flaw to any survival plan.  After all, we have all been taught that Rule #1 is Cardio

Other keen wisdom includes public restroom avoidance. 
If you are or have been a sedentary person, have you ever tried to start a running regimen?  Did you have frustrating early returns?  Were you totally embarrassed that the cars passing by could see your strange-gaited gallop?  Did you feel awkward about running in pajamas because you don't own running clothing?  Ladies, are you stymied by the prohibitively high cost of supportive sports bras?  (If you score higher than a B, the answer is yes.  And a lady has got to support her chesticles.  Lest in elder years she ends up looking like she taped two socks filled with quarters to her chest)

And so this is not only exercise, but in these the early days it is also an exercise in humility for me. 

I was so embarrassed about my performance that I wasn't sure I wanted to document it EVER.  Yet out of curiousity I went to Googlemaps and meticulously plotted the macrame-like route I jog/walked.  Hot damn, there and back again is one mile.  A mile!  I was shooting for manageable, and got a mile!  Of course Googlemaps tells me that I shall have been able to walk it in 20 minutes.  psh.  yeah.  If it were flat.  And... not so ... far. 
I mentioned that this past weekend would be a project weekend, and so it was.  I was quite proud of what D and my dad accomplished in a day and a half.  (I had projects of my own, though they didn't finish up in that time, so I'm not so proud of what I actually accomplished) 

Sunday morning was nice weather, but instead of jogging I (we, actually) had breakfast outside on the deck with my parents and wrestled with Bobby and Cricket as they crawled all over everything including us.  I thought I would take "a day of rest" from training on Sunday, as I was (mentally) worn a little thin.  I did begin a strength-training regimen consisting of some girl-pushups (which differ from boy pushups in that wimpy girls do them but buff girls and boys do not do them because they lack dignity) for obstacle course preparation.  I would begin anew on Monday. 

But my "day of rest" has come around to bite me in the arse.  Torrential downpour and thundering (and dog barking) woke me at around 330 this morning.  Four inches of rain fell in places around the city, flash flooding was reported in list-form on the news, and we once again have water intruding into our basement, the most severe incursion to date.   Worst was the north wall, the problem that we thought had been fixed.  The drainage pipes in the trench had been overwhelmed in the biggest rain of the year. 

So much work has been done to avoid this very thing, it doesn't seem fair.  Not sure what we'll do next.  I have lots of photos to post about the work that took place this weekend.  When I said torrential, I meant it.  It was the pelting kind of rain that descended in sheets.  I know, because I stood outside in it with the dog.  He thanked me by leaping onto one and then the other couch, muddy and wet.  That's gratitude.  Anyway, I'm sure there would have been more water if the work hadn't been done, but I can't help but feel a tad defeated.  Like it was all for naught (naught?  nought?  nougat?).

It's supposed to pour again tonight.  So I won't have time to jog, only to whisk the dog out, bring him in, feed him, and give him a brisk walk.  D But I will try to shake things up, thanks to uncooperative weather.  Stationary bike in basement.  A cardio alternative. 

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