Week 5 - It Begins For The Last Time

The week commenced with me standing downstairs in my running attire. The pants and shirt were fitting slightly tighter than the last time, and I was wondering if they'd possibly shrunk in the wash. As I stood at the front of the treadmill, admiring it's construction and overall "space-age" aesthetics, I felt myself drifting off into a sleep-like trance. I switched on the machine with the toe of my extremely white running shoe, slowly shuffled around to the side of the machine, and placed my hand on one of the supports. Deep breath in, and out. I thought back to when I crossed the finish line of the half marathon last summer, and how much pride I felt. Every stride that I had fought through to get to that point seemed to assimilate into one massive positive experience. All the training, sweating, complaining, and pain I had put myself through seemed to vanish at that one precise moment, making it all worthwhile. But here I stood, waiting for some otherworldly force to guide my foot towards that first step. My mind was remembering the successes and accomplishments, but my body was firmly entrenched in the memories of the physical torment and abuse it was again going to receive. "All I have to do is start.", I told myself aloud. I placed one foot on each side of the belt, and hit the "START" button. The motor whirred to life and I took one more deep breath. "Here we go." One foot followed the other, and I quickly found my rhythm. I anticipated a short session considering the amount of time that had passed since my last run. The goal for the evening was to just get started and feel it out, so after a brisk 40 minutes I felt satisfied with my effort. I didn't live up to my lofty expectations, but it wasn't bad for an initial attempt. I didn't quit on myself.

The next day I had a hockey game, the first one in a few weeks. I laced my skates, strapped all the pads in place, pulled the jersey over my head, and stepped onto the ice as I had done many times before. After my first shift I felt as though I might collapse. It's quite amazing how quickly one can fall out of shape, not that I was really in shape to begin with. As I came to the bench, completely spent, I looked up at the clock to see that there was still 57 minutes remaining. I took a quick swig of water and tried to regain my composure. As I brought my head up to observe the action, I noticed the pace of the game was almost frantic. Without a moment to think, the winger came to the bench for a change and I vaulted over the boards and back into action. The action was non-stop, up and down the length of the rink, I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and my lungs and legs were burning. Time to change. I skated hard to the bench and was awarded with a pat on the helmet in appreciation of a job well done. Once again seated, I began to feel woozy so I took another shot of water, and leaned back to open my chest up for some deep breaths. Barely ten minutes in and I'm already spent, but there's no rest for the wicked, and out I went again. By the end, I was a winded, exhausted mess. Definitely "too much, too soon", but well worth it. It made me realize that I can't let up on the physical activity if I want to continually participate and improve. As weary as I was afterward, I eagerly anticipated the next game.

Even after all that, the following day I was on the treadmill again. This time ready to replicate my struggles from the day before. No pep talk needed, I bounded down the rubber-belted runway as determined as ever. Pushing myself to the edge, I thought of how much I will improve in the coming weeks. My limits at this moment will seem like a mere warm-up a month from now, and that motivates me to get back to that level and beyond. After only three days, I could already feel myself becoming stronger and more confident in my abilities. Urged on by the aggressive music blasting into my ears, I actually exceeded my expectations. I was attempting a run/walk dynamic that I thought may have been a little too ambitious, but I powered through it. I finished knowing that I was back in control of myself, and my actions. Ready to take on my toughest challenge, ME.

Focused and confident, my eating is under control, and I'm fully committed to my conditioning. Training for a half-marathon that is taking place in only a few months, and yet another later on this year, there is no room for lapses. I no longer hope that I will stay honest with myself and see this through, I know it. Bring it on, because I'm ready.