As I sit here happily sipping my second(ish) glass of Cabernet, I’m happy to report:
I’m training for a 5k.
Stop scoffing, you seasoned marathoners. This is a big deal for me.
I generally have a love/hate relationship with working out. Call me a yo-yo dieter; I won’t be offended. I tend to really be a stickler for working out for a month or two and then can’t get myself away from the TV enough to even stretch out on the floor.
But that vicious cycle ends today (or, actually, last week. See? Already off to a good start.).
I found this article on the Women’s Health website that actually walks you through how to becoming a runner. If you’re wondering (you probably weren’t), I’m on week two.
And yes, I understand that a 5k is only 3.1 miles. But for someone who, at .25 miles, huffs and puffs enough to blow down the house of a completely unsuspecting and probably innocent piglet, it’s a pretty decent-sized goal.
I mean, okay, let’s not get too excited: I know I’m no Big Sister, who runs 5ks in her sleep. And no, I’m not enough close to the level of awesomeness of Notably Neurotic, this fantastic (and super nice! Courtney – can we please be best friends?) marathoner/triathloner (who recently staked out Craig’s List for her stolen bike, *GirlPower*). Or Friend Mike who just completed his first half-Ironman (which was even exhausting to watch).
In truth, I don’t consider myself anything even remotely close to being able to be called a “runner” just yet.
But, for a solid week and a half, I’ve followed the afore-linked-to running regime and am happy to announce that I am, for lack of a better term, getting there.
I don’t have the race picked out yet (anyone have a good recommendation?), but I’m working toward it. Before the end of 2012, I will attempt and (hopefully) finish a 5k.
I can already taste that recovery drink. It’s wine-flavored, of course.