Breaking Through

Thirty minutes isn't really a lot of time, when you think about it.

A thirty-minute commute isn't too bad. Thirty minutes for lunch seems way too short (ask any teacher). Getting to a movie theater thirty minutes before the movie starts is a good idea. We all, routinely, throw thirty minutes away without really even blinking.

But when told to run for thirty minutes by M. the Reasonable in November, my brain immediately said, "That's way too long."

Logically, I know that I am more than capable of running for thirty minutes without stopping, walking, dropping to the sidewalk in a twitching heap...but somewhere, in my brain, came this very loud voice saying, "You can't." And since I started working with M., I haven't. Oh, I've put in thirty minutes every day--I might run a ten-minute interval, walk for a few minutes, run for ten, walk, then run for ten more minutes to finish off. Sometimes I could get away with two fifteen-minute intervals. As long as I was pushing myself and completing the required amount of running, M. didn't seem to care how I went about it--much. The goal, of course, was to push towards a full thirty minutes of just running.

I got close. The day after my adventure with sciatica, I went out the very next day and ran 26 minutes before stopping. Close, but not quite that full thirty minutes. And since then, I've had more bad or mediocre running days than I've had great ones. A lot of intervals. More back problems forcing me to walk. Shin splints last week. I took a few days off at M.'s recommendation to use the cycle at the gym instead of running. I kept up with yoga. On Christmas Eve, I went out for a run...and I made it thirty whole minutes.

By about the twenty-sixth minute, I was gasping for air, dripping sweat, and wanting to stop. But I was also determined--I'd had a fantastic workout at the gym on Friday and was looking forward to bragging to M. today about it. I wanted to be able to add, "And I ran the full 30 minutes on Saturday!" So I pushed myself. And I made it.

I wrote in my food journal (I also keep track of my activity), "I am so a rock star!" M. saw that today, grinned at me and replied, "No. You are a rock legend."

After today's workout, in which he increased the weight I'm lifting on several exercises, I was tired. I drove home, sipping my protein smoothie (mixed berries, spinach, protein supplement, flax seed and green tea) and thinking, "Ugh. I don't really want to run."

But I went out there and started my walking warm-up (about 3/4 of a mile). I got to my normal start spot for the run and moved to turn the stopwatch on my iPod on. Then I had a thought--what if instead, I just run as far as I did on Saturday, without worrying about time? Whenever I use the stopwatch, I end up looking at it every thirty seconds, wishing I had less time. I drive myself bananas thinking, "Ugh, only 12 minutes done?" So I didn't time myself today and instead just got lost in my running music. I pushed myself through the difficult parts of my run--the little uphill bits, the parts where my breathing is especially labored and my legs especially tired. And what do you know, I made it to the same place I ran to on Saturday--and even pushed myself a little further, just to make sure I'd run a full half hour.

So that's two awesome runs in a row. I feel really good about it, and like I can keep this trend going. There's a local 5K I want to run at the end of January. Here's hoping I continue to have no back pain (I'm stretching regularly and using my foam roller for that), and that I can keep sailing over the mental hurdle that holds me back. I hope to get faster (I'm averaging an 11:30 mile, and while speed doesn't really matter as much as just getting out there and having some endurance, I want a faster average time). I hope to enjoy running a little more--today wasn't so bad.

When I think back to the earliest days, when I was convinced I'd never be a runner, I look at how far I've come and I'm proud.