Day 7 - Jogging

New shoes! There was a sale on Saucony, my favorite running shoe brand. Turns out when one jogs regularly, your feet swell a bit, and old shoes end up being tight. It's a good idea to buy running shoes half a size larger. Some people buy a full size larger and wear thick socks for even more padding.
I knocked off my three miles at a slightly slower pace than before, just to be kind to the still recovering big toe. It hung in there and I finished without having to walk.
Well, as the week concludes, I look back and realize that even though I complained about it, jogging is an extremely effective form of exercise. There's also something pure and simple about just lacing up shoes and hitting the road. No gimmicks, just you and the open road.
Or the treadmill, as the case may be. When I jogged before, it was never on a treadmill. Though I hated it at times, I liked how the the machine kept me honest and on pace.
Conclusion: I think I'll keep jogging, but probably not every day. I'll mix it in when I can and get good use out of my shoes.

Day 6 - Jogging

Well, perhaps the song I posted about walking 500 miles was actually propthetic. Despite the tender toe on my foot, I tried to get back to jogging again today. After a mile and a half on the treadmill, I was running funny to try to avoid the pain in my toe. I think of it as speedhobbling. It didn't help much, though. I decided to stop running and turned the dial on the treadmill to a walking pace. I did finish the three miles.

Day 5 - Jogging

Or rather, today was about not jogging. I don't know if it's something about the way I land on my right foot, but it seems I've developed "treadmill toe"- a metatarsalphalangeal joint sprain.
Of course, I could be a total hypochondriac, but my big toe is really sore and a bit swollen, so I'm giving the jog gig a break.

Day 4 - Jogging

Hump Day. Getting over the hump. Crikey, I've got to get the jog in. Wait, wait. Papers to grade. Laundry. Test to prepare.
Maybe you should just skip the jog. Who jogs every day, anyway? A lot of people skip a day.
No, no, I'll get to the jog. First I'll eat dinner, though. Then I've got to run some errands.
Running errands? Isn't that almost like jogging? Why not count it as such and call it a day?
That wasn't the deal. Every day, for one week. It's only been three days. If I can just get it done today, I've only got three days left.
Who's going to notice? It's not like anyone reads this blog.
That's not the point. The blog is here just so I can track how I'm doing.
Well, you're tired today. Take a break. Besides, it's really late now. How do you know the gym is even open now?
Um, 24 Hour Fitness? I'd think it would be open. I'll check the site. Yep.
What are all these people doing here at this hour? Oh, look, your favorite treadmill is taken. Let's go home, then.
No way; the treadmill I use isn't so important. I've just got to get this done.

Day 3 - Jogging

Ah, the great outdoors. Today I joined the natural athlete of the family, my brother, for a jog at a local park. I battled the elements and the elements won. I broke the cardinal rule of jogging - never stop jogging, even if your pace slows to the speed of a walk, you're never supposed to actually walk. That's what I did, though, and more than once. Basically, the hills kicked my butt - and my thighs and legs. It's just not the same running on a treadmill. I guess it serves me right for never touching the incline button.
I got the sympathy slow-down from my brother - where the fitter person is fine and jogs back to the person doubled over with exhaustion, then jogs little circles around them to maintain pace while the weak link totters along at a walk. Anyway, as inauspicious as it was, another three miles crossed off.

Day 2 - Jogging

500 miles is a long way. If three miles is no picnic, I have a whole new appreciation for the willingness of the guy in the song to go that far, even if he's walking instead of jogging.
Today I was sore and pretty much didn't want to go jog, but I reminded myself of the mantra for this blog "Hey, it's only a week".
So I hit the gym again and found a spot in the back row of treadmills. Once on the treadmill, same pace - I felt after one lap the way I felt Sunday after a mile.
Then this curly-haired blonde headed over and picked the machine next to mine. I was praying she'd go elsewhere, follow the unwritten rule of leaving an empty machine between runners for as long as possible, but no such luck. She was the ideal cheerleader type, toned and yet boobylicious, wearing tiny shorts and a crop top as her workout gear.
I hadn't thought it was possible to feel worse, gasping for air and struggling to stay on pace. Then her male counterpart (they were probably married, actually) showed up to claim the machine on my other side. He only wore shorts and was as tanned and tight as she. There I was in my scrubby sweats, between Mr. and Mrs. Universe.
I tried to focus on just finishing and not falling off the treadmill. Still, I couldn't help but notice that they were both plugged into iPods that apparently gave them interval training directions. They sped up, slowed down, and raised and lowered the incline of their treadmills repeatedly. It was distracting, but perhaps that was a good thing, because I made it to the end of my run and got out of there.

One Week - Jogging

No one voted on the poll for the longest time, and I was secretly glad, because then I was going to pick the meditation option. Peaceful, quiet and easy, no? But then one person decided to choose my destiny and voted for jogging.
Great.
So be it.
Anyway, ages ago, I actually was something of a jogger. It wasn't really my idea, it was more peer pressure. Other people were doing it and I tagged along almost as a social activity. That time is long past. Still, it left me with a bit of a weird logic when it comes to jogging.
First of all, I can't consider anything less than three miles a decent jog. Granted, I know people who blow out three miles as their warm-up without breaking a sweat, but hey, I'm not up to that standard. So I set three miles as my minimum.
My pace logic was this - a world-class marathoner can churn out five minute miles, so I should at least keep within double that speed. Ergo, a ten minute mile.
So I trotted off to my local 24-Hour Fitness, where I've had a sadly underused membership for years. On the StarTrac treadmill a 10 minute mile pace is level 6. I cranked it up and started jogging. Half an hour later, I made it, finished mile 3. I'm giving myself a "yay!" there, because after mile two, I was hurting. I'm not in any kind of running shape. Looking at myself in the mirror afterwards was scary. My face was red - not cute healthy flush rosy, but oh-god-is-she-going-to-pass-out? rash-red. The trainers passing by with their clients were throwing worried glances my way. I walked an extra lap for cool-down. Still red. I went to the locker rooms, splashed my face. Still red. I walked to the car, drove home, drank iced tea. Still red. I made dinner (tortillas! carbs!), washed the dishes and finally, finally, I look semi-normal.
Undoubtedly, I'm going to be sore tomorrow. What a fun week this should be.