Days 1-2
February 14th, 2005. Day 1.
Let me be your feet. You may not be able to literally, physically walk the 60-mile route in the 3-Day, but I will. I will train, I will go through the physical rigors of the event. I promise to write about it, too. I will be your presence and your voice. When I am weary from the journey, I will think of all of you--your hands that knit love into each stitch as you created a scarf or hat or socks that will comfort a breast cancer survivor or a dear friend. The love and support you offer, the faith you bestow on me to walk in honor of dear ones who have fought hard and lost, or those who are still fighting, will not go unrecognized or unappreciated.
The journey begins now. I'm proud to have you as my partner.
February 15th, 2005. Day 2.
I had my first day of training today. I joined the Y last week. As body types go, I am not a petite feminie flower. I'm more of a strong, strapping lass. I felt very strapping today, I have to admit. I walked into the cardio room full of torture devices and chose one that looked fairly simple--the Precor machine. I've done it before and knew that I wouldn't fly off or fall over when I tried to use it.
I couldn't get the damn thing to program. I'm standing there in my stupid workout outfit that shows fat I usually hide quite well and I can't get the machine to program. I push buttons, hold down the reset...nothing. Then the chippy next to me says, "You have to start pedaling." I don't make eye contact, but I say thanks. She is young and perky and I wonder why she is excercising. Part of me hates her and part of me wants to be her.
So I enter my weight. I've been larger and I've most certainly been smaller. I was skinny most of my life--until college, that is. Somehow in college I gained about 80 lbs. I am both blessed and cursed by a very large frame that hides weight well. Because I can hide it well and because I am a generally confident person, I think I just let myself go to some extent. It's easy to do, that's for sure.
Three kids later, I want my body back. I want to once again feel light when I run. I remember a time in my life when I could run a mile and actually feel like I was flying. I ran fast. Effortlessly.
Today my body fought each step on the machine. I grew to hate the indicator lights that seemed to blink at me, "Time to pack it in, good game." I wanted to quit at 17 minutes into the workout. I nearly did. Instead, I cursed the fans for not being on, I cursed the guy working out next to me in his short shorts and fast repetitions. At one point, I snuck a look over at his machine beacause I thought that I was keeping up with him. "This isn't so hard!" I thought to myself. His resistance was twice that of mine and I was sweating like a stuck pig. Then the fans magically turned on. I was nearly 3/4 of the way done with the workout. I knew I could finish.
And I did. I wasn't happy, but I finished. As I got off the machine, it took all I had not to fall over from the lack of motion on solid ground. It was like walking on the ground after jumping on a trampoline. Your body expects there to be motion. Chippy, my Precor neighbor, got off her machine too. All I could do was concentrate on not listing into her as I walked. She was going for the disinfectant. She was going to get it first. We would have to have a freaking fracking discussion about who got it first. That settled it, I hated her.
With considerable effort, I turned around and found another disinfectant spray--ACROSS THE ROOM. In the front, no less. Because Chippy McChipperson was faster than me, I had to walk in front of every skinny non-sweating person in the whole room. Me and my beet-red face, sweaty hair and crotch-riding shorts. I really hated Chippy. Somehow, by sheer will, my legs carried me across the room and back to my machine. I dutifully cleaned off my sweaty hand prints from the machine. I also accidentially sprayed Chippy.
Really, it was an accident. I swear.
I walk 3 miles tomorrow.
Originally posted on WoolyWonder forums:
http://woolywonder.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=4252&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0
Let me be your feet. You may not be able to literally, physically walk the 60-mile route in the 3-Day, but I will. I will train, I will go through the physical rigors of the event. I promise to write about it, too. I will be your presence and your voice. When I am weary from the journey, I will think of all of you--your hands that knit love into each stitch as you created a scarf or hat or socks that will comfort a breast cancer survivor or a dear friend. The love and support you offer, the faith you bestow on me to walk in honor of dear ones who have fought hard and lost, or those who are still fighting, will not go unrecognized or unappreciated.
The journey begins now. I'm proud to have you as my partner.
February 15th, 2005. Day 2.
I had my first day of training today. I joined the Y last week. As body types go, I am not a petite feminie flower. I'm more of a strong, strapping lass. I felt very strapping today, I have to admit. I walked into the cardio room full of torture devices and chose one that looked fairly simple--the Precor machine. I've done it before and knew that I wouldn't fly off or fall over when I tried to use it.
I couldn't get the damn thing to program. I'm standing there in my stupid workout outfit that shows fat I usually hide quite well and I can't get the machine to program. I push buttons, hold down the reset...nothing. Then the chippy next to me says, "You have to start pedaling." I don't make eye contact, but I say thanks. She is young and perky and I wonder why she is excercising. Part of me hates her and part of me wants to be her.
So I enter my weight. I've been larger and I've most certainly been smaller. I was skinny most of my life--until college, that is. Somehow in college I gained about 80 lbs. I am both blessed and cursed by a very large frame that hides weight well. Because I can hide it well and because I am a generally confident person, I think I just let myself go to some extent. It's easy to do, that's for sure.
Three kids later, I want my body back. I want to once again feel light when I run. I remember a time in my life when I could run a mile and actually feel like I was flying. I ran fast. Effortlessly.
Today my body fought each step on the machine. I grew to hate the indicator lights that seemed to blink at me, "Time to pack it in, good game." I wanted to quit at 17 minutes into the workout. I nearly did. Instead, I cursed the fans for not being on, I cursed the guy working out next to me in his short shorts and fast repetitions. At one point, I snuck a look over at his machine beacause I thought that I was keeping up with him. "This isn't so hard!" I thought to myself. His resistance was twice that of mine and I was sweating like a stuck pig. Then the fans magically turned on. I was nearly 3/4 of the way done with the workout. I knew I could finish.
And I did. I wasn't happy, but I finished. As I got off the machine, it took all I had not to fall over from the lack of motion on solid ground. It was like walking on the ground after jumping on a trampoline. Your body expects there to be motion. Chippy, my Precor neighbor, got off her machine too. All I could do was concentrate on not listing into her as I walked. She was going for the disinfectant. She was going to get it first. We would have to have a freaking fracking discussion about who got it first. That settled it, I hated her.
With considerable effort, I turned around and found another disinfectant spray--ACROSS THE ROOM. In the front, no less. Because Chippy McChipperson was faster than me, I had to walk in front of every skinny non-sweating person in the whole room. Me and my beet-red face, sweaty hair and crotch-riding shorts. I really hated Chippy. Somehow, by sheer will, my legs carried me across the room and back to my machine. I dutifully cleaned off my sweaty hand prints from the machine. I also accidentially sprayed Chippy.
Really, it was an accident. I swear.
I walk 3 miles tomorrow.
Originally posted on WoolyWonder forums:
http://woolywonder.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=4252&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0
posted by thefreelancemama at 9:59 PM
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