Selena
Mileage: 0 (rest day)
The next day, after suffering through work with a throbbing headache, I went for a long walk (since I had left my car at the bar the night before and I had to walk--er, I mean, I wanted to walk. Yeah, totally. Because I'm training for a half-marathon, and stuff, you know?) and did some thinking. 30 may not be that old--"30's the new 20!" said one friend. Who's 24. Pfft.--but it's definitely an age where one-night-stands with whiskey or long-distance running workouts are felt in completely different ways than that felt by my 20-year-old body. Sheesh. I remember being able to do silly, alcohol fueled antics until the wee-hours of the morning with only a furry tongue and vaguely reduced motor-skills as my punishment. I used to gallop on pavement, dangerously increasing my distance by miles upon miles per week, and being none the worse for wear. (Just to be clear: that last part was, ahem, about running, not drinking...)
Ah, but now? Now, my flat, overpronating feet shout obscenities at me (I've had two stress fractures on the metatarsals), my knee tries to start fights, and my iliotibial band is about as tight as a non-twist beer bottle top...
As my shameful walk came to an end that day (and I saw that my car hadn't been towed), I faced up to the cold, hard, 30-year-old truth: my training will have to be slow and steady. And probably whiskey-free. My doctor (who is an avid runner) once told me that the body can handle a 10% exercise increase per week; in other words, if you're running for 20 minutes this week, you should run 22 minutes the next, and 24 the next, etc.
Hmmmm... I need to do some serious math calculations! I'm only at 30 minutes?? And our race is how soon?! Yikers.
Hmmmm... I need to do some serious math calculations! I'm only at 30 minutes?? And our race is how soon?! Yikers.