Lately, I’ve become very inspired by the Girl Child. She runs track at her middle school and recently decided that she wanted to tackle the mile, after doing really well at some of the other races.
Her father, aka The Fella (obviously), was a cross-country star when he was in high school, and the GC asked for him to start really training her this season. Over Easter break, he took her to his old running course out on Long Island (one of the best in the state, heard tell), and had her running on the beach, and today, her first track meet after all that running, she did great.
Yesterday, we took her to the track near our house, and as he continued to coach her and have her do drills, I set off to walk in lane 3, offering the GC bits of encouragement as she passed me and wistfully watched her run, wishing I could hold a pace like she does, instead of huffing and puffing for the rest of a lap after doing a measly 100.
Hers + his
I asked the fella what he would suggest I do as someone who desperately wants to get back into running.
“Jog a lap, walk a lap,” he replied, simply.
“I can’t do an entire lap,” I protested. “I can barely do the 100!”
“You’ve got to push yourself or what’s the point,” he retorted.
Touche, though he did get a snarky look in lieu of a reply.
So today, after getting back from the meet while it was still light out, I set out to the track, determined to run. Or jog, as it were.
To quote my beloved “Anchorman:” “I believe it’s jogging or yogging. it might be a soft j. I’m not sure but apparently you just run for an extended period of time. It’s supposed to be wild.”
I warmed up by walking to the track, and as soon as I hit the starting line, I started to “yog.” I wish I could say I jogged the whole lap, but I didn’t. But on most of my six laps, I did two bursts, including four 100s, and on one lap, did three bursts.
I was embarrassed by my incessant huffing and puffing, but carried on. I did get less huffy each time I did it – and know that the next time will get even less and so on and so forth. After four laps, though I could (in my mind) admirably quit for the day and walk home, I continued on for two more.
“You’ve got to push yourself or what’s the point,” said a wise man once.
Now that I’ve cooled down and showered, I feel great – tired, of course – but great. Alive. Limber. Ready to run again.
And after all, isn’t that the point of this here blog??