Day One - July Eleven Two Thousand Ten

I bought new shoes, with a few quality minutes at Fleet Feet last night. Buying shoes for me is a pretty quick dealy hooper. When you have enormous clonkin' feet like I do, there are no women's shoes. Add to that that I supinate instead of pronate like the rest of the world, and suddenly I had two men's shoes options. One fairly padded, one not so much. So the trauma and decision making issues are greatly reduced. I can have anything I want as long as it's one of these two shoes.

So last night, knowing Chris needed to leave for his ride at seven thirty, I laid out some of my clothes. I say "Some" because I had no running shorts upstairs. "No prob" I thought, I'll just snag some out of the laundry, and a pair of socks, and it'll be good."

This morning at six thirty, Chris's alarm went off, followed shortly by the cry of the toddler who really isn't ready to wake up. %^%. I went in to find him uncomfortably wedged between bed and wall, with the all important froggies scattered hither and yon. So I rearranged him on his bed, with his froggies, and laid down with him for a few minutes until he fell back asleep. My, the bed was comfortable.

Oh, yeah, focus. Focus.

So pulling on the upper clothing, I went in search of socks and shorts. And searched, and searched... I have appropriate running attire, for the life of me I couldn't find it. So with my mismatched sock, dressed in cotton yoga pants, I leashed up the dogs, and we went for a run. The key was, I had to be back by seven thirty, and hopefully before Porter woke up. So it was decision time, and I went, clad in an outfit that will surely get me kicked out of the neighborhood.

Ah the dogs. The logistics of running with the dogs require a potty break first. The logistics of my neighborhood is that all walks/runs, require an uphill. So I wussed out on my first day, and walked straight up the hill, allowing the dogs to potty. And then we started to run.

And I remembered the reason I hate running so much. Blah. Nothing feels so good. I'm pretty sure I need a jog bra as it appears being a mommy, in addition to growing my feet to epic proportions, has caused me to outgrow my sports bras. Not by a lot, but the girls were not staying put the way they should. Also, having rushed out of the house without eating means that I had that queasy, semi lightheaded feeling that comes with a lack of sugar. Somehow I need to figure out how to get food into my belly without having to wake up at AM to do it.
About three steps into my run I realized "This is why I'm a cyclist".

It's day one, eh, I'll just go to Mineos.

I got to Mineos and felt better, so I thought "just to the fountain." I looked down at the dogs, and Fred looked like I felt - tongue out the side of the mouth, huffing and puffing. I looked at Ginger, and she looked like she was about to suggest that we throw in some speed work for interest. Her mouth wasn't even open, just pacing along next to me. Just a warning, Ging, too many days like that, and Fred and I will have to kill you in your sleep. Assuming we have the energy.

But having survived my way to the fountain, well I might as well go to Aldo. And hey, having gotten to Aldo, well I can make my way to the parking garage.

Insert screeching breaks sound here.

Fred decided we're stopping at Aldo's dog water bowl. This nonsense had to stop. And even though I could have tugged to keep him running, the break in momentum was enough to end my run.

Day One Realities:

1. I have to get organized the night before
2. I need new sports bras
3. I'm probably never going to be a natural runner
4. Ginger will be running my partner, except on rest days when I'll take the old man. She'll push me.
   
5. My new shoes are awesome. Like running on pillows.
6. I run like a steam engine.
7. Not having numbers one through five, and the back space key, sucks. Porter got it with some Gatorade.

Mileage: (cough, erm) 0.5 miles