For the last three weeks, I've been running. Okay, run-walking. On a treadmill. Yeah, not really running, more like slugging along at a fast jog. But it's better than lying on the couch watching television.
I just got this bug. I'm almost thirty two and at thirty I promised myself that I would definitely have a better decade than the last. Some changes I'd already made:
1. I've learned to love my alone time with my dog. Taking her for a long walk in the evening is way more enjoyable than it used to be. Let's face it, when I had a yard, she never got walks which is why she started jumping the fence.
2. I've taught myself how to knit and crochet and have great aspirations for other crafts. There's something other-worldly doing a craft that my mom, grandmother, great-grandmother and so on and so on did - very connecting to past generations.
3. I'm eating better foods - stuff I cook from scratch, organic fruits and veggies, and grass fed beef, recipes from Jewish kitchens like Challah bread and the like. Again, something that connects me to other women.
Sitting on the couch knitting while eating fresh Challah isn't offset very well by a leisurely walk with the pup, and of course, there's the boyfriend layer we all get. So running it is.
I've never been a runner. I have never liked it, but have always had this sneaking suspicion that running is like drinking beer. No one really thinks it tastes good the first time they have it. It usually takes a while to find that brew that changes the imbibing experience from piss in a cup to a truly delectable ice cold beverage. My first "great beer" was at Sea World a few years ago. I was with my friends Scot and Ashley and all their kiddos playing in the water all day long. Sometime earlier, I had suggested to Scot that we tour the brewery and his response was, "We are not going to some stupid tour."
At around 4pm, Scot grabs my arm and takes me to the brewery. I'm thinking, What about what you said earlier? He runs up to the security guard and says, "Are we in time for the last tour?"
"No sir. It started fifteen minutes ago."
"Oh man! Can we still have some free beer?"
"Sure, just go in there," as she motions for us to go into the pub section of this joint.
And the Oscar goes to . . . Scot Stolz.
Best beer ever. Ice cold. Perfect portion. Dark brew. Yum.
But I digress. You see, I'd been drinking beer for years before this day and faked my way through liking it. Is this what running is like? Do I fake my through it for years and suddenly one day it'll feel amazing? Who knows.
For now, I will nurse my sore knees (they never hurt in my twenties) and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate (then pee, pee, pee) and maybe Friday's jaunt will be slightly less impossible.
