Running

My nipples are rubbed slightly raw. This unwelcome sensation is the result of yesterday's atypical workout. I say atypical for two reasons- first, yesterday was a Saturday and I never workout on Saturdays (mainly because Sami has has usually planned an outing for us at least a week in advance which always seems to revolve around her favorite activities: yoga, lunch and a trip to the bookstore- however I can't complain since I have made fall Sundays my Duck football sanctuary complete with beers and cursing at 5:30 a.m.) and second, I spent the entire workout on the treadmill after having eschewed running completely the past three months.

Recent cardiovascular neglect aside, I was able to stay on for an hour and 48 minutes- 13 miles exact. I didn't initially plan to run a stationary half marathon, but I must have been mentally prepared for something out of the ordinary after having toted a stick of anti-chaffing balm, purchased in preparation for our hike up Mt. Kinabalu, along with me to the gym. I generously applied the substance to the area between my thighs pre-workout, but didn't even consider my nipples until around mile eight when they began to burn slightly inside my standard issue, communal polyester gym top. Periodically, I attempted to dull the pain by jabbing a thumb into each one. Instead of coaxing them out of their erect state, however, I only succeeded in injecting salty sweat into the affected areas and thereby intensified the sting.

Worse than this, my iPod died at the ten mile mark. If it wasn't for my iPod, I am sure that I would never even attempt to run. I mean seriously, how boring. With the music blaring, I can take my mind to a place far away from aching legs and chaffed nipples. With the music blaring, I am sitting down next to John Fogerty in front of thousands, scraping thimbles across a musical washboard as he belts out a solo to "Suzie Q" (hey, my daydream not yours). I guess it should come as no surprise that many of the songs on my playlist contain some conjugation of the verb "run" in the title. There is "Running on Empty," "Run Through the Jungle," and who can leave off "Born to Run." Even my favorite Talking Heads "Psycho Killer" doesn't have "running" anywhere in the title, but still contains the adrenaline producing verse: "run, run, run, run..run, run awaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!...oh! oh! oh! oooooooohhh!!! aye!!! yaye!!! yaye!!! ooooooo!!!!!!!!"

I went through a spell a while back where my iPod battery would die after about ten minutes. Naturally, when this occured, I would only run for ten minutes and then just go lift weights. Back before I had an iPod I never ran, except in high school where I participated in track. Even then, five miles was my max and I had no intention of ever running further than that. Eventually I began to give up faith in my tired iPod, and in turn, running alltogether. The original headphones I had been using were falling apart- the white plastic had cracked and the only way to keep its innards from spilling out was to secure it by wearing a headband. Only instead of wearing the headband like a normal person (and really who wears a headband anymore besides LeBron James) was to make it come down over my ears. I looked like a dork, which is fine with me, but when Sami caught wind of this accessory error she promptly ordered me to purchase new earphones. Magically, the new earphones have brought the iPod back from the dead and the battery lasts longer than it has in years.

Of course, another reason I am able run further- MP3 resurrection aside- is that I have dropped over 35 lbs, as referenced in this past post. An added benefit of slimming down is that now, not only does my Under Armor no longer make me appear pregnant, but I also don't tire as quickly.

Still, thirteen miles is pretty damn far. A few people have even told me unsafely far after not running for so long, which made me feel pretty cool. But, why push myself? Why care? After all, who am I trying to impress? It is not like I set any sort of goal, and I definitely don't strive for a body like a marathon runner. I think it comes down to this: I have never experienced true athletic success.

I went to a small high school so I had the opportunity to play on the basketball, football and track teams. In basketball, my teams were inconsistent at best, god-awful at worst. In football, we were talented, but never able to make it past the second round of the playoffs, and saddest of all, never able to beat our crosstown rivals in all my four years. My biggest disappointment was also my last competitive athletic event: the state track meet at Hayward Field. I ran the 800m and while I was certain I had no chance of winning, my goal was to make the finals and win a medal (all finalists get one). The top 8 make he finals and I missed it by .03 seconds.

I always think back to that race whenever I am on the treadmill. There are things I could have done differently, I am sure. I ran too fast on my first lap and that left me winded at the finish. I was in the lead for the first 600 meters before being pushed a couple of steps onto the infield by passing runners. I could actually hear the crowd gasp as I regained my footing. On the homestrech I could make out one woman screaming my school name, urging me on. I was so amped up to be running on the same track where all of Steve Prefontaine's heroics occurred. I am certain I gave it my all, but I always wonder if I could have just gritted my teeth harder, balled up my fists tighter (not proper form by the way, but still), kept my head down and pushed a little deeper, just maybe I would have made up that .03 seconds.

Still, maybe if I had experienced some success, things would have turned out differently. Perhaps I would be content to sit around, drinking beer and eating potato chips (ok, of course I do that, but not daily). Who knows, maybe my competitors in the state meet are all out of shape now- not obese by any means, but easily pushing the duece and (in my mind) balding and/or gray on the sides.

Anyway, I guess I should be thankful for these losing experiences and feel fortunate to always be chasing that .03 seconds. Even if it takes a working iPod and 13 miles to get there.