Time To Figure Out If I'm Still Drinking The Kool-Aid

It’s early on a Sunday morning, and I’m standing in the middle of my street.  It’s already painfully hot, and I’m wondering if I could use the weather as an excuse not to do this.  But, I know I have to; I need to figure out if I'm still drinking the Kool-Aid.

No, I’m not setting up a stand in front of my house and selling drinks and cookies to hot and hungry neighbors (though my cookies are so good that it wouldn’t be a bad business venture).  I’m about to go for a “run”.  The word “run” here is quotes for a reason.  I have a 3 mile route stretched out before me, and I’m going to walk the first mile, then do an interval of 1 minute running/2 minutes walking for the rest of it.  I am finally out of my boot permanently (or at least until my next injury, sigh), and have a brand new pair of running kicks since I am not on speaking terms with the ones that I wore when I broke my foot.  I’ve been going for 2 mile walks every other day for about a week now.  My foot hasn’t complained about it too much, and in fear of not completing the other 6 races I need to qualify for the 2014 marathon, I signed up for a 5K in Prospect Park next weekend.  Now, don’t start yelling at me that I’m not healed enough.  I already asked NY Road Runners if there was a time limit and if I could walk it, and they said that as I long as I cross the start and finish line on the same day it would count.  My fastest 5K race has been 28 minutes and 15 seconds.  My goal for next weekend is to complete this one in under 2 hours.

I have a bigger problem, though.  I’m not sure if I want to do it.  I have not run a step since April.  I missed it at first, but over the last several weeks I realized that I don’t miss having every body part hurt all the time, and I’m happy not have to plan every meal based on if it’s to recover from my last long run or to carb load for my next one. 

Running is a funny thing, though.  You never think of it as “sort of OK.”  You either hate it or get completely obsessed by it.  And when you love it, running seeps into every part of your life.  You think about it all the time, constantly look for discounted running gear, learn the pros and cons of every style of running shoe.  The word “fartlek” slips into your vocabulary, “PR” becomes a verb, and you are willing to pay $15 for one pair of socks if it will just make the blisters stop.  You learn how incredibly painful it is to roll your sore muscles on a foam roller, but you do it anyway.  You are drinking the running Kool-Aid.

I thought about all this as I walked the first mile of my route.  I was a little worried about my foot hurting, but that was going to be an objective decision of whether or not I could do it.  I was more worried that I’d turn from a running cult member to one of those anti-runners.  What if I hated this run?  Would I try again another day?  Would I quit forever?  If I did, how would I identify myself?  I would no longer be a runner or triathlete.  Would “Fat Girl” come back and take me out to dinner at McDonalds or Wendy’s (and Wendy, please know that I still miss you dearly and think about you from time to time)?

I also knew why I was wondering if I would still enjoy running.  This “run” was going to start a very slow and basic training plan for the NYC Marathon in November.  I found a very beginner training plan on the internet that is my Hail Mary pass to be trained and ready to toe the line in Staten Island in November.  If my foot hurt too much to do these first few run/walks of only 2 – 3 miles, then my journey to the 2013 marathon was going to end before it ever really got started.

I walked along thinking about all this when I heard my watch beep.  I had completed the first mile, and it was time to start doing the Walk 2/Run 1 intervals.  I took a tentative step, and then another.  As I ran I listened to my foot to see if it was objecting, but it kept quiet.  I made sure I ran at a slow pace; I didn’t want to go out of the gate too fast (if you could ever term any of my running as “fast”). 

The minute passed and I settled in to walk for 2 minutes.  As I did, I analyzed everything.  How was my foot?  Fine.  How was my breathing?  Not great, but it was better than expected after doing pretty much nothing but deep water running for 11 freaking weeks, which is no cardiovascular challenge whatsoever.  And did I like it?  I wasn’t sure.  It was fun, but it was only a minute.  Was I trying to convince myself that I liked it just because I didn’t want running shoes I’d worn only once, and what on Earth would I do with all that running gear?

Before I knew it, my watch beeped to let me know it was time to run again.  I picked up the pace again, listened for my foot to start complaining, and otherwise just stayed in the moment.  When it was time to walk, I tried to envision myself crossing the finish line in Central Park after running 26.2 miles on November 3^rd.  The rest of my walk/run continued in the same fashion.

When I got home, I stopped outside my house to stretch and evaluate my foot.  It hurt a little, but it was nothing that 20 minutes of ice couldn’t fix.  OK, so my foot was cooperating so far.  But what about me?  Did I have fun? Was I still a runner? Was I up for 18 weeks of long runs, ice baths, black toe nails?  I thought about it and started to smile.  Yup, I was definitely still drinking the Kool-Aid.