No Butts About It

Ardi was down with bronchitis the other week.  It is the weather, I tell you.   He was much better this week.  Yesterday he said he was ready to resume his exercise routine.

"Do you want to exercise with me, Mom?"

Tell me, how can one refuse such an offer?  I couldn't.  

I could have though.  I could have refused.  I could have come up with half a dozen good reasons. 

I could have simply said NO.  

But since it has been quite a while since I've gone out for a run (it just keeps getting colder and colder out there) and I haven't gotten any sort of exercise (outside of mini-dashes towards the bus stop), I figured it would be as good a time as any to exercise.

So I said, "Sure!"

Sure ... sure ... sure I said 'sure.'  That was yesterday.

Ouch ... ouch ... now all I can say is 'OUCH.'

I don't know what it is about exercising with Ardi.   When I do the routine on my own, I go through the motions and the counts.  Of course I do it without the benefit of Ardi's watchful eyes and interjected advise like 'do not let your elbows touch down' or 'try not to lean forward' or 'breathe in as you go down, breathe out as you come up.'  I go through exercises he has taught me and wake up the next day without any aching bones nor painful muscles. 

But EVERY SINGLE TIME I have done the "same" routine with Ardi nearby, I wake up with sore body parts.

Yes, indeed.  Today, my butt is aching.  

[Pardon me.  I think the proper way to say it Down Under is 'my bum is aching.']

Quick Dash

The weather is awfully cold, and getting out of bed to go for a run just doesn't seem like a logical option (even if I can imagine the weighing scale and the tape measure reading higher numbers these days).  By the time I walk outside to catch the bus in the morning, it is not THAT cold, but of course it is also time to go to work.

So that has been the story for about two weeks now.  

Yes, it is sad, I know.  

The best I have done so far is make a mad dash to catch the 610 bus yesterday morning.  

I wasn't particularly late but I figured I'd try to catch the earlier bus rather than the later bus.  Catching the earlier bus meant less time standing out in the cold at the bus stop.  It being a Friday, we got to wear jeans and rubber shoes.  I used this to my advantage by running up to Old Northern Road.  I saw two buses go by.  I thought to myself, if someone were waiting at the bus stop, chances are the second bus would still be there by the time I crossed the street.

I looked right and left (that's what you have to do in a right-hand drive country).   When I saw that the road was clear, I crossed the road quickly and ran towards the bus.

I could see that there was nobody at the bus stop.

The bus could move on any minute now.

It didn't matter, I still had to try.

Run!  Run!  Run!

I caught the bus but had to catch my breath as well as I handed my bus ticket.  I thanked the bus driver for waiting for me.   He smiled and said that he could have left me to catch the next bus.  I smiled back and said that I appreciated what he'd done and that I wouldn't have taken it against him if he had opted to drive away.  He smiled, obviously amused at the fact that I had ran to catch his bus.

I took my seat after he marked my bus ticket and punched the machine for my receipt.

Before the bus moved on, one other passenger was able to ride.  

I overheard the bus driver saying something to the effect that she was lucky because another lady had ran to catch this bus earlier.

So, if anything, my running has paid off slightly.

One Run, Two Run

I haven't been running as much lately.  If it is not raining, it is cold.  Either way, autumn is not the best time for running early in the morning.  I can only imagine what will happen in winter.  I don't think I will have the courage to go out in the cold.

I ran along Old Northern Road the other weekend.  Ardi had pointed out that the Stockland run was 5k and not 5.4k as previously stated.  He had clicked on google maps and seen that although the route was 2.7k by car, it was 2.5k walking. 

There were a lot of things on my mind that day.  I was unable to run the whole length of my usual route.  I walked part of the way. 

For that particular run, I concluded that "TIRED CAN ALSO BE A STATE OF MIND."

If you tell yourself that you are tired and you can't do things, you will convince yourself that you are tired and that you can't do things.  Corollary to that, if you tell yourself that you CAN do things, you will convince yourself that you CAN and you WILL.  

Personally, I like the corollary better.

Last Saturday, after a long  break from running, I decided to 'just do it.'  I was going to put my corollary to the test.  I opted to run along Old Northern Road although I wasn't sure at which point I would turn back.   I pushed myself to get all the way to Olive Street because that would be the 2.5k mark.  

Going back, I just kept plodding on -- one foot in front of the other, one landmark after another.  The house is four bus stops after Tafe.  When I reached Tafe, I contemplated walking but then told myself that I wanted to be able to say that I had ran 5k again.  So I jogged along slowly; one bus stop after another, until I reached home.

I made it.  (Of course my legs were sore until yesterday.)

Busted!

I am trying to keep a low profile in terms of my exercise routine.  I started this blog as a means to keep up the momentum and monitor my progress, and possibly to write down my thoughts in a free-flowing kind of way.  It  has primarily focused on running and exercise but who knows, one day there could be swimming, sewing and cooking in this blog as well. 

I know that writing things down in a blog is not exactly keeping things to myself and is subject to public discover and scrutiny.  And I suppose it was only a matter of time before non-family members found their way here.

True enough, my main inspiration for running has found me out.  Nikki surprised me with a message a couple of weeks back saying that Armand had found the blog.  (I'd clicked on the link to his blog to see what they'd been up to, so that must have triggered something in the cyber world.)   We exchanged a couple of messages on the matter.

She was proud of me for embarking on this journey and reminded me to celebrate my achievements (big AND small).  My first blog post said that she had ran a 16K marathon.  She clarified that she has ran in 3K, 5K, and 10K races.  She hasn't quite taken on a marathon, which by definition covers a distance of 42K, but she has successfully completed a 16K race.  

Well, when I started this blog, crossing the street was enough to get me huffing and puffing.  Sixteen kilometers was equivalent to a marathon to me.  Of course, I know a bit better now.

She is currently training for her 2nd 16K race on 22May (good luck, Niks!) and is contemplating a half-marathon (21K) in CamSur in September (go for it!). 

Me?  I am happy if I am able to get up in the morning and brave the cold.  I decide whether I am turning right towards Coolong or left to Old Northern Road.  My watch has a battery again so I have the option of checking the time if I wanted to.