Yes, more about running. I do, however, have a chicken recipe that is AWESOME and I will share it next time.
I’m not a running expert. I actually have no idea what I’m doing, but I have learned a lot. Now I am going to share my knowledge with you, in case you’re a beginner or (like me) huffing and puffing just getting to the starting line.
Lesson #1: Don’t run after eating somebody else’s meatloaf.
I’ve eaten a lot of meatloaf in my life, but I make the best. I’m not even going to hide it. My meatloaf recipe is the only one of my recipes that I will not share. It’s built on years of trial and error, and I think my meatloaf is awesome. When I was a kid, I would make meatloaf and shape it into interesting shapes. My family has dined on both Cocker Spaniel(shaped)loaf and whale(shaped)loaf. (I will find pictures of these; they belong in the Louvre.) Unlike most meatloaf, which sits like a meaty brick in your stomach, my meatloaf is like a tu-tu’ed ballerina, joyfully tip-toeing through the small intestine.
Wednesday night, I did not eat my meatloaf — I ate somebody else’s meatloaf. Normally, I eat a small dinner and am ready to run in about 30 minutes. Wednesday night, I went out to run after 45 minutes, but I definitely wasn’t ready. I felt like I had 100 pounds of bricks sloshing about in my stomach. Yecch.
Lesson #2: Running does not instantly relieve stress.
I know people like to spread this lie. Having a bad day? Think that you’re a worthless Ziploc bag of used Crisco? Go running!
Yeah. It doesn’t work like that. If you’re having a bad self-esteem day, running probably won’t help you. Well, it doesn’t help me at least. It actually hurts, because I am acutely aware of how slow I am, how much my bits and bangles goo-blorp, and just how many freaking times I have to walk because I just can’t run anymore.
Now, on the other hand, if you’re having a bad day, i.e. you have tight deadlines at work or you just want to escape something bad, running is your best friend. Just don’t expect it to stroke your ego.
Lesson #3: Don’t run in walking shoes.
I have a confession to make: I’ve been running in walking shoes. All of you runners out there are probably clicking your tongues and shaking your heads. I know, right?! Well, here’s the deal. Money has been slightly tight at the casa de Bunnah y Jazz recently, so running sneakers have taken a backseat to gas and groceries and the new Indiana Jones movie (obviously we’re not suffering). I bought my walking shoes a few months before I started running, and so I used them for walking and then temporarily transitioned them into running. The problem is that I also use these shoes for my commute to work and for running errands on the weekends, so they’re… worn, to say the least.
When I first started running, I didn’t really notice that anything was wrong. At my first 5K, my brother gave me a brief talking to about how I needed running shoes, and I ignored him. I mean, after all, I was mostly walking anyway, so I think the shoes fit the purpose.
But now I’m mostly running (hoorah!) and my feet have become aware that I’m treating them like crap. Yesterday, for example, they rebelled by getting pins and needles everytime I tried to run; if I kept going, they became numb. I’m pretty sure the shoes are causing it, so it looks like I have to stop being an old miser and go get some, you know, running sneakers.
Lesson #4: Obey your knees
My friend Cheri’s mom had knee surgery about a year ago (right?). On Saturday, her mom walked 2 miles, something that (I think?) would have been impossible a year ago. My great-aunt had knee surgery about a year before my wedding, and on my wedding day she danced it up a storm, because she could…and she couldn’t before. Knees are everything, and I tend to ignore mine.
When I was in the 8th grade, I was in the midst of a promising career of B-team basketball. I was shooting guard and could set a pick like nobody’s business. I was also a great defensive player and could block shots of those quite a few inches taller. (I couldn’t, however, shoot very well.)
We were playing Our Lady Help of Christians (OLHC). They were the toughest B-team in the area (their A-team left something to be desired though), and often ended the season in first place. We had played them earlier in the season and had lost in double overtime. This game, though, I was pumped up. The season was almost over, and we actually had a chance to get past the first round of the playoffs!
The first half was one of my best. I was passing and boxing out and rebounding and dribbling like nobody’s business. I even scored a couple of points! We were losing, but not by much. The point guard dribbled the ball down the court, and then passed it to me. A defender was moving toward me, but I still had an open shot.
Looking back on that moment, I should have passed the ball. I didn’t have a chicken’s chance at the Perdue farm of making the shot, but I took it anyway.
If you’re squeamish or just about to eat lunch, you may want to skip down to the next lesson or close the browser altogether.
I’m just warning you. In fact, I’ll make you click to continue.
I took the shot. My right foot landed on their defender’s foot, and my knee bent…
the opposite way.
I warned you.
I toppled like a heap onto the court, and screamed bloody murder. I grasped my knee and sobbed, rolling back and forth on my back. I wish that I would have passed out from the pain, but I didn’t. Their coach and my coach (my dad) helped my up and over to our sideline. I sat for a few minutes, and then my dad told me to “walk it off.” So I did. I hobbled up and down that court for the duration of the game.
I spent the next day and a half convincing my mom that a hospital trip was unnecessary. Didn’t she know that my right knee had always faced inward? No, mom, I can’t walk on it, but walking is overrated anyway — I want to learn to fly! Did it hurt? That sort of depends on your definition of hurt.
Well, finally my dad loaded me in the car and took me to the hospital. After a long wait, some X-rays, and an extremely cold MRI, I had my results. I had a dislocated knee (a blind man could have figured that out), a broken tibia, a fractured fibula (or it could have been the other way around), some things had been torn off of some other things, and my personal favorite: two chunks (one tiny and one large-ish) of my kneecap were floating around somewhere. The large chunk, luckily, was connected to some tissue or something, and once they re-located my knee, that should reattach… but they had no idea where the other piece was. The doc thought it would turn up eventually and re-attach itself though.
I spent the next three months or so in a brace. Since then, I’ve dislocated my knee too many times (once while dancing in my living room to The Thong Song… don’t ask), but I try to be cautious.
On Wednesday, it felt very stiff and I ran anyway. BIG mistake. Did you know that you need to actually use your knees to run? No? Well, I figured that out quickly.
Lesson #5: There will be bad days
By now you know that on Wednesday I ate meatloaf and had bad self-esteem, numb feet, and stiff knees. Lesson number 5 is an exercise in the obvious. There will be bad days. I need to accept that. There will be days where running 3 miles in under 40 minutes [or 30, or 20; insert goal time here] seems like something only Speedy Gonzales can do. There will be days where your feet are high-powered magnets and the pavement is metal. And there will be days, like Wednesday, where a perfect storm occurs and you need to just walk most of the way.
But do not, under any circumstances, skip past “Eye of the Tiger” just because you think you don’t deserve it. I almost did, and I would have regretted it.
Lesson #6: As long as there is rain, there will always be rainbows, and as long as there are clouds, there will always be silver linings.
On Wednesday I had a bad run; an awful run, actually. The worst run I’ve had since I started. But on Monday, only two days before that, I had the best run I’ve had since I started: I ran 3 miles in 39 minutes.
Bad runs suck, literally. They suck my energy and my self-esteem and make me doubt everything. I need to remember: having good runs means I’m improving, having bad runs does not mean I’m falling back. As long as I go out there and do it, regardless of the brickloaf, numb feet, stiff legs, and low self esteem, I’ve already succeeded at my goal.
