Quote:
My goals:
-Work on cutting out dairy which lately makes me nauseous
-Do the Philly Distance Run, a half marathon, in the fall
-Run faster than I do now
-Never eat grains again
-Be better at portion control
I lost seven pounds last week from 234 to 227, so I've only got 23 to go. I have not been below 215 for a very long time so I see an epic struggle ahead.
Anyway, I'm in!
Janine
|
Great! You've already lost a lot, and already lost a few just for this part, so you're definitely on your way!
I don't run unless chased, so I'm always impressed with people who are runners.
I remember when I was in the CCC in the early 80's, in the quasi-boot camp up in the San Andreas mountains, we ran every morning at PT (not counting multimile hikes in fire gear carrying double bladed axes in the blazing sun and other fond memories) and this one woman on the trail who was stationed there to make sure nobody quit running etc., was the biggest jerk in the world. I mean, I think she probably had some personality disorder as it's hard to imagine any other explanation.
Now I'd been athletic all my life but NOT a runner. I always hated that part. And I had never once had this mysterious "second wind" experience. I ran till I either had to stop or until I barfed off the side of the trail, whichever came first. Every morning just about at the point where I was coming near her in our morning run, I fought such intense nausea. Oh man, it was terrible, it took unbelievable focus to NOT throw up at that point, and since there was about 1 woman per 25 men there it was pretty easy for her to pick the woman of the bunch (me) and attack her verbally.
I decided, on the last day of boot, that I was going to throw up ON HER. There was absolutely no doubt I could do it, I'd fought NOT to every day for three weeks. The more I thought about it, the more utterly hilarious it became, especially since it was a fairly isolated turn and I knew that no matter how deliberately I did it I could get away with it seeming accidental if she complained.
The day before, we had our final sort of test (mountain run in gear etc.); that was hard. Snake, the huge soulbrother from east LA who threatened to kill me the first day in camp (and who had become my biggest admirer somehow when, in sheer stupidity and naivete not courage, I faced him down; apparently he appreciated a semi-white girl who sang soul, and we had a ton of fun in KP, singing in the kitchen with its awesome acoustics!) he's the only reason I made it; he finished it before nearly everyone, ran back 3/4 of the way, pulled my puking butt off the side of the trail a few times and coached me all the way to the end. But I passed, so I was clear.
The very last morning arrived, our last PT ever, and in DELIGHT at the very idea of finally being able to "express" my nausea to this acting spawn of the devil on the trail curve, I ran with more happiness and optimism than I'd ever had about jogging... ever. I felt light in step. I started getting tired right on cue, and then started getting nauseated right on cue. And then just as I turned the curve to where she stood, it happened: I got my first "second wind" EVER, and suddenly understood WTF people had been talking about all these years.
Unfortunately that meant I was not remotely ill and could not throw up on her. Well, hopefully it's the thought that counts.