Just worry about yourself

Earlier today I ran the longest distance I've ever run in my life -- four miles. On one hand, I'm pretty proud of myself. My time wasn't terrible (47 minutes), and I didn't die. Score. Hell, I didn't even get that lumbering, wheezy hippopotamus feeling that I usually do around mile 2.5. I think I might be making some progress with this running thing.

On the other hand, I know this distance is barely beans to someone training for a full marathon. Deep down I know I shouldn't compare myself to others and, in the words of my kindergarten teacher, remember to "just worry about yourself." We're given that advice over and over again as kids, but we seem to forget to live by it as adults. I know I do. Especially when I get passed in the park by a 16-year-old barely breaking a sweat, or worse, by an an old man who probably has more gray hairs sprouting from his ears than growing on his head.

That's why when I run I love see dogs out walking with their owners. Dogs are just just happy to be there. They're not worried about anything except enjoying themselves and smelling some new stuff. They're totally in the moment, and it's written all over their grinning, tongue-lolling faces. Bruno isn't worried about whether Fluffy got an extra lap on him this morning, or whether Rover left a bigger calling card under those pines near the playground. Happy dogs are a nice reminder to just worry about my good time.

Rest day

Yesterday (Friday) was my first rest day in my half marathon training schedule. I love rest day.

I didn't realize how much I needed it until I put my head down on the couch after work. I intended to just close my eyes for a minute or two, but I quickly slipped into a deep, drooling sleep usually reserved for heavily narcotized people or those suffering from transpacific jet lag.

I have no idea how long I slept. A loud, piercing bark from on of our dogs brought me back to daylight. My husband was home. As I stumbled off the couch and across the living room in my glassy-eyed, fog-headed post nap stupor, I wondered, "How early can I go to bed on a Friday night without being considered a total loser?"

Time limits

I learned yesterday that there are actually time limits involved in this 1/2 marathon. Apparently, they want you to wrap things up in about 3.5 hours.

I freaked out and e-mailed my husband in a panic, worried that at exactly the 3.5 hour mark officials would scoop me up into the slow people paddy wagon and cart my butt off to the Land of Shame.

Having run a few half marathons himself, and being the patient and kind person he is when it comes to my various neuroses, he e-mailed me back and told me that such time limits aren't strictly enforced. It seems they're flexible, especially if you're a mile or two from the finish. He tells me the time limits are there to discourage those people that would finish in the 4.5 to 5 hour timeframe. This makes me feel slightly better, but I find myself sympathizing with those people, because apparently they are the citizens of the Land of Shame, at least according to the race committee.

On the upside, if I do end up being one of those people, my tendency to be harder on myself than anyone else would probably result in me being elected the mayor of the Land of Shame.

Thinker vs. Runner

I don't have asthma, and I'm not a hippopotamus. I just feel like one sometimes when I run, usually right around the 2-2.5 mile mark.

I'm actually pretty fit. I'm 28 years old, just shy of 5'4, and I wear a size 4 or 6, depending on the brand or designer. (Ladies, you know what I'm talking about.) I got married in May, and one of the most valuable things I learned about myself during the wedding planning process is that I'm a goal-oriented exerciser. In the months leading up to the wedding, I worked out constantly. I lifted three times a week and did at least 30-45 minutes of cardio on days I didn't lift. It paid off, and I felt great on our wedding day.

But post wedding, I've found it harder and harder to motivate myself to get to the gym. I've decided it is because I need a new goal, so I've set my sites on running a half marathon in early November. I found a 12-week 1/2 marathon training program for novices online, and with the encouragement of my husband and friends I'm going to go for it.

Let me be clear here -- as far as cardiovascular exercise goes, I've always been an elliptical machine, spinning class, step aerobics kind of girl. Up until this point, I had much the same taste for running as I do for a plate of wax beans. I can choke it down, but I don't necessarily enjoy it.

I did run a a season with the cross country team my freshman year of high school, but the only medal I won was for a race where there were more medals than runners. Near the end of the season, my track coach -- a burly, gruff, ex-NYPD cop -- said I should go back to the debate team, telling me "you're a thinker, not a runner." (And, at the time, he was right. I went on to compete and place at the national level in speech and debate three years in a row. But I digress.)

Most people that know me would probably argue that I'm still a "thinker." And I think I still have a shot at being a runner. Yesterday I ran 3.3 miles in approximately 36 minutes, on Wednesday I ran 2.2 miles in 26 minutes, and on Sunday I ran 2.7 miles (I forgot to keep time last Sunday). I should probably point out here that I didn't say I thought I had a shot at being a fast runner. Just a runner.

This weekend I have 30 minutes of cross training and 4 miles ahead of me. Stay tuned!