First, let me say, HELLO. I’m still around. I even had a birthday earlier this month. The new year is started and I’m getting certain personal and professional ducks in their rows. Work is mostly about prepping for a major solo exhibition of my art in the spring, an Open Studios event on its heels, and making some tough decisions regarding my current gallery representation. I also have a new store website nearing launch (very exciting and HUGE), so there’s a lot keeping me busy.
Personally, I’m adjusting to the major life changes that occurred in the last quarter of 2014. Neil and I are friends, see each other regularly. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I think we like each other again. We’re both learning to take care of ourselves in different ways now, and that includes forging new food and fitness habits.
I’m seeing myself out of a long, fairly major depressive episode. I know I’m climbing out of the hole because I’m beginning to care about certain aspects of myself again. I have been (irregularly) doing yoga for a couple of weeks, and today I did something completely out of character: I went for a run.
Let me just say, I have never seen a runner who looks like he/she is having even a shred of fun. Runners: you look miserable. Why on earth do you do that to yourselves? Well, I did it to myself today. Here’s a screen grab from my RunKeeper page:
See those arrows? I started running at the bottom one, around to the right and ended at the top arrow. Without pausing, slowing or anything. Believe me, it sucked, but sucked less than I thought it would. I controlled my breathing, slowed to a fast walk only when I knew I’d cross into “hurty” breathing and possible injury. I’m not sure I could outrun an axe murderer yet, but I’m guessing I’ll not be the first to get chopped up.
About fifteen seconds into the actual running part (which was after a fast, uphill walk to warm up), I understood that my fell running shoe choice was not the most suitable for the nice tarmac I was thumping my feet upon. No bounce at all. My right knee did a quiet bit of protesting, but then shut up and took the run like a champ. I’ll wear better trainers next time I go.
Next time? Yeah. I said it. Considering I didn’t die, and I’m somewhat fitter than I believed myself to be, I am going to try to get out three times per week for this exercise which makes every runner’s face look like they’ve just spent an hour trying to fix a copy machine paper jam with a rabid racoon in their underpants.
We’ll see how it goes.