Happy New Year
And so it begins. For the next 12 months, we get a new 5K. I haven’t made the final choice for January, but I’m either two or three weeks away from it at this point.
I’m so screwed.
If I was being chased by a bear, I could make it about a mile. This isn’t going to end well.
But that’s the point. Right now, it won’t end well because I haven’t been in shape the past few months. The point is to get in better shape. The point is to scare Fatty away for a few more months. The point is not to become an overweight statistic.
So, I’m screwed. This month. But maybe not next month.
So far, my body is holding up reasonably well. My knee isn’t acting up an inordinate amount. I won’t be able to run all of the first 5K, but I’ll give it the old college try to see what we can do, and hopefully I can stay under 35:00 this go.
I’ve done three 5Ks before. The first came out at about 31:00 even though I walked large chunks. The second one was around 27:00 with a bit of walking. The third was around 22:00 because the organizers missed the memo on marking the route, so everyone ran really well that day.
A week after that last one, I got sick, and then work and health combined to make sure I wasn’t able to run consistently the next year, which is how we got where we are.
And so it’s a new year, and what are my resolutions? I have none. I never have any, really. I set a goal (goals are more concrete than resolutions; more specifically, they’re measurable) to run a 5K each month, but I set that back in November, so that hardly even counts as a new year’s goal.
Somehow, I survived the holidays. I managed to get in a couple of runs, which weren’t fantastic, but they’re much better than the runs I wouldn’t have taken otherwise.
I also dropped more than 5 pounds at one point.
Hmm… Maybe that shouldn’t have happened.
I ended up getting sick a couple of days after Christmas. Either a stomach virus or something I ingested, but I can’t really figure out how I got sick. No one else got sick, though I was around people the entire time. I also didn’t eat anything no one else did. So, it remains unresolved.
Not that it matters. All that matters is that for one day, I was not a functioning human. The next day, I was an almost functioning human. The third day, I was an exhausted human. And on the fourth day, I was functioning, and then beginning my trip home on the highway.
By the time I got home on the fifth day and woke up somewhat refreshed on the sixth day, I thought I was good to go. I wasn’t brave enough to run just yet, but I thought I’d give yoga a try.
It was different. Usually there are at least 5-10 people. There were only two of us in class because it was New Year’s Day: me and another person I don’t know. The class was great, and this meant class was tailored more to us and tips/suggestions were specific to us.
That said, I thought I was good to go. Turns out, I was still a bit more tired than I thought I was. My legs, in particular, were shot. Just completely shot. Between the extended chair poses, crescent lunges, and warrior poses, I was about to fall over. I was pouring out sweat. Like an obscene amount. I get dehydrated just thinking about how much I was sweating.
But I needed that. I needed to have the absolute crap kicked out of me.
And so it begins in earnest. I’ll resume normal activities, keep trying to make slightly better food decisions, and keep running from zombies two or three times a week.