Week 3 quickly became all about temptation.
Resist. Succumb. Endeavour. Relinquish. Thesaurus, come at me.
A jaw-clenching tug-of-war that you wouldn't even know was present inside me. The little good and bad voices that wouldn't go away regardless of the amount of beautiful verbs I could find to describe them.
Monday was a rest day, of course. I spent the entire day at work with itchy feet, constantly having to remind myself that I didn't have to organise a run after work. I surprised myself at how torn I felt about not doing anything for the day.
"You are getting addicted", is what people were telling me. I'm getting addicted? HA! To running?! Double HA!
None the less, I still felt super guilty about not having done any exercise, and also about the enormous and super delicious Parmi that I graciously devoured after work with a couple of colleagues. I felt like I was cheating on myself.
A lactose intolerant, cheese-induced coma, followed by minor sinus congestion resulted in a disrupted and mostly sleep-less night, and Tuesday morning greeted me with a wheezy chest and blocked nose. That's what you get for cheating, dude.
Week 3, and I was going to have to forgo my daily run for the first time. And I felt terrible about it.
I was utterly exhausted from coughing and wheezing all night and so I decided to stay home for the day and take it easy.
Anyone out there who knows about the sinus struggle will understand how beautiful your daily outlook is when your lungs are channelling Darth Vader, you sport a post-nasal drip that could compete with Niagara Falls and feel like your shoulders have been attached to giant throbbing bobble-head.
So Tuesday was another rest day. I spent the entire morning telling myself I would feel better by the afternoon, and would be able to have a crack at going for a run.
I wanted to weld my hands to my backside to stop me looking in the pantry for (delicious) bad things to eat. Instead, I sat in my computer chair whistling my flared nostrils at my stupid Sims while they made stupid delicious burgers and cheesecake dishes.
Raging aside, I stuck to my eating guidelines, and went to bed feeling great, despite my Sinusey-face and itchy feet.
With my alarm set for 4.45am the next morning, I told myself that I would be doing my cross-training in the morning to get it out the way.
Wednesday morning, I threw my head off my pillow and glared at the alarm clock screaming at me at 5.30am. 45 mins later than I needed to be awake to squeeze my workout in. Shit, shit, shit! I decided to keep sleeping until 6am. I will have to do cross-training tonight.
I was annoyed that I had slept in and missed my morning work-out opportunity, but had pure intentions to work out on my Elliptical straight after work in front of Moulin Rouge. That is, until Rhi suggested we go for a bike-ride instead.
Chris opted to stay home because (he sucks at riding a bike) was tired, so I rummaged around the shed on my lonesome to find my bike, my helmet, and the epilepsy-inducing bike lights, and off I went to meet Rhi at the Little Para River Trail.
For me, cycling feels relatively easy. With my legs pumping and someone beside me, I can chat and ride the day away without feeling tired or puffed. I did however, conveniently forget what happens to your butt when you have not ridden a bike in a while and spent the last half an hour acutely aware of my sit bones, trying to remember if there was any cushioning on the stupid bicycle seat.
1 hour and 17.3kms later we got back to our start point. Other than sweating more than a refrigerated Christmas cake, and having to surgically remove the seat from my butt, I felt pretty good.
I expected to wake up Thursday morning and fall to the floor with legs of jelly, but was suspiciously fine when I got out of bed. In fact, if not for my saddle sore buttocks, I wouldn't have thought I had any exercised at all the night before. This just made me anxious to do something when I got home from work, but today was a rest day, and I also had an energy crash at about 3pm and gratefully dragged my butt home onto the couch.
I know I haven't mentioned food all that much, but even though I may not talk about it, food is something I constantly think about, and I was really proud of my effort today.
Especially when I came home to 3 giant pizza boxes laid out on the kitchen bench. So, inhaling the beautiful aromas of jalapenos, pepperoni and cheese, I still determinedly made a Tuna Steak Salad for one, and ignored the pizza like a boss.
I may have snuck a piece or two later. Because it always tastes better cold, right?! Who can resist.
Before I went to bed, I made sure I had all my gear ready for an early morning run in the city, and set my alarm for 4.45am.
4.45am Friday, I woke up. I woke up! And with some quick Avo on Toast, I jumped in the car and drove to the city to meet Rhi for our morning run.
I was secretly a little bit anxious about today's run because the increments had jumped up to 3 minutes this week, AND I had already missed a run, so while I might be ahead of Rhi in terms of rest vs. fatigue, I had no idea what I was in for and whether this would be the first day I would have to stop in the middle of a run interval.
Anxiety aside, we chucked on our sneakers, started our MapMyFitness apps, and set out for the River Torrens as the sun was peaking through the (skyscrapers, lol it's Adelaide) office buildings.
The interval program requested we warm up for 5 minutes, run for 90 seconds, rest for 90 seconds, then run for 3mins and rest for 3mins, with one repeat of these intervals before we warm down. With warm up and warm down and walking to and from the river, this took us an hour.
As per the usual routine, the first run interval is always the hardest. My body doesn't know what the hell is going on, my knees and ankles complain and I am acutely aware of every inch of wobbling skin on my body.
Not to mention that today, for the first time, my trustee K-marts were falling down! I tried not to be too excited about what that meant, but decided that regardless of the holes and worn stitching, after this run the trustee K-marts were going to have to go in the bin.
The first 90 second run and walk worked well as a warm-up. Alliteration anyone?And then we were straight into our first 3minute jogging increment.
And I did it. Without stopping.
And once I got to walk for 3 minutes, I tried not to feel too confident about it, because I didn't want to be Cocky Carol and end up having to stop on my next run, so I just focused on getting my breath back, and continued to stride it out.
Miraculously, the next round of increments were much the same. I felt my breathing settle into a pattern that matched my steps. The muscles in my legs were pumping; my feet slapping quietly on the pavement.
And then it was over. And I felt great!
We shared a sweaty high-five, much to the amusement of old-man-power-walker passing us, and finished our workout alongside a number of ridiculously fluffy, webbed feet cheepers, that were clearly there to (cheer) cheep us to the finish line.
Saturday? Saturday, is alternative/do-something-other-than-running (a.k.a Cross-Training) day.
Chris was called into work, but Rhi and I were still keen even without our psychotically-enthusiastic trail leader, so we hunted online for a suitable walking trail and decided we would make tracks on the Dry Creek River Trail.
Since this trail was a lot closer to me, I didn't have to get out of bed until 5.45am. Hallelujah.
Since when is 5.45am a sleep-in?
So I was out of bed even before Chris had to be for work on Saturday morning, stuffed myself with some avo on toast, and jumped in the car to meet with Rhi.
The weather was absolutely gorgeous even at 7am. It was about 20 degrees already and a cloudless sky. The app I downloaded to guide our trail (ViewRangerGPS) said that our intended track was approximately 9.5km, and because the track was supposedly mostly flat, Rhi and I intended to walk the legnth of it and then turn around and walk back.
So with groggy eyes and nervous small talk, off we went.
The trail took us through the back of Mawson Lakes, Pooraka and through the south of Valley View, following Dry Creek the entire way. This took us behind both of Adelaides reputable prisons and had a surprising amount of heritage buildings and ruins along the way.
By the end of the trail, also known as the half way mark, we were both starting to feel weary in the legs. Luckily, the trail came out right beside a shopping centre, so we could make a quick loo stop, fill our drink bottles and be back on our way home.
About 3km into the walk back, we both declared that our bodies had obviously had enough. My legs, my butt and eventually even my toes started to ache ferociously and I started to get a little bit fatigue-crazy. We plowed on and made it back to the car in only 3hrs40mins. The app told us we had walked 19.3kms, and my feet would agree.
I went home and stubbornly tinkered around the house before I gave into my usual Saturday nap.
After my nap I also gave into my usual Saturday cravings of junk food. This is not Junk Food Anonymous, so I dont want to talk about what I consumed, but let's just say it was all delicious and felt totally worth it at the time.
Sunday, however, I woke up with a junk food hangover. I regret everything. And slept in well past the best hot-weather-to-flies-to-ratty-children ratio of running conditions.
I had plenty of 'adult' to do today and so I decided to focus on that and see how I felt about a run later in the evening.
Thankfully, in my food hangover regret, I managed to eat really well for most of the day (except when Chris decided he wanted Smoked Salmon Carbonara for dinner,YUM!) and so I felt much better by the evening and at about 8pm, just before the sun was about to set, I chucked my sneakers on and flew out the door for my Sunday run.
Just do it, right? Nike sponsorship, come at me.
I had to do another round of 90 second and 3min jogs and totally expected to have to either stop from fatigue or to vom. carbonara, but instead, I managed to not only complete my running intervals, but also to enjoy it.
For a few rare moments, looking onto the sunset, breathing in the fragrant trees and wilderness around me, I even managed to distract myself enough to forget I was running.
I am only 'Inhale, Exhale' and feet on pavement.
And Week 3 is done!
On a serious (and possibly ominous, sorry) note, I keep expecting that every new week will be the week when I will push too hard; when I won't be able to keep with the allotted run training program; when I will fail my goals.
Like I am just running on borrowed luck, and my lucks going to run out and I will realise I am not getting as fit as I thought. I'm not going to be able to keep up. That I've reached my success-quota and Rhi and Chris will pull ahead of me and leave me behind.
There's that little mean guy on my shoulder I was talking about. The bad voice in my head that threatens to demotivate me and devalue me.
I struggle constantly with that inner battle of voices that tell me I am going well versus not doing well enough. Noticing the positive changes in my body versus comparing myself to others that experience quicker changes. I give myself a little pat on the back, and then rip myself over hot coals for not being good enough.
Long term goal: Learn to shut the bad voices out, and put the good voices on loudspeaker, on a podium, in bright bold colours and with flying banners and pom poms.
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