The battle against laziness doesn’t only affect writing. It slithers into the rest of my life, too.
Example A: I have slept an OBSCENE amount the past 2 weekends. Like, 10 hours a night AND multi-hour naps during the day. My to-do list cries out for justice.
Example B: Physical activity. I was a pretty active kid, but post-college it all sort of drifted away. Then a couple years ago Byron did the Couch to 5K challenge and I thought, “Well, shit, I guess I’d better do this, too…” (Can’t you just FEEL my enthusiasm.)
And you know? At first it was lame, but it got better. Or rather, I got better. I completed the program, ran my first 5K race and finished in 30:30. Not too shabby! Maybe this running thing wasn’t terrible after all.
And then I did my second 5K. And it SUCKED. There were HILLS. Oh god, the hills. I don’t even know my time in that one, but needless to say it was bad. My third 5K I trained and trained and set a personal goal to finish in under 30 minutes. It seemed reasonable — I’d been working hard, the weather was going to be fine, and I knew the course was flat flat flat. I COULD DO IT.
My time for that race was somewhere around the 32 minute mark. Which, yadda yadda, pep talk, IT WAS HORRIBLE AND DEMORALIZING. In the words of Homer Simpson:
That was over a year ago. Instead of training harder, I said, “screw it.” I fell off the running bandwagon, and though I’ve gone for the occasional half-hearted run, I haven’t gotten back into the swing of things. And, of course, the strength I built up? Gone. THANKS, BODY.
And then Audrey, my friend and running partner (who, it should be noted, is an ACTUAL runner who very kindly puts up with my plodding pace), said, “For my birthday I want you to run the Foam Fest with me.” And I am a dutiful friend, so I signed up for this Foam Fest, a 5K race with obstacle courses thrown into the middle of it.
This was months ago.
Ask me how my training’s going.
Every time I go for a run my mind says, “UGH, really?” And my body agrees. I can barely make it a mile without wheezing. But now I’m staring down the barrel of this Foam Fest debacle — it’s less than 50 days away. So I need to get serious.
(Aren’t deadlines a miraculous thing? It’s the same with writing. Word count rapidly increases when D-day approaches.)
I signed up for RunKeeper yesterday, and it already seems to be helping — last night I had my best run in a LONG time. When I told BFF Mary I had signed up and was tracking my runs, she asked, “What’s your goal?”
I didn’t even have to think about it: “Not to die at the race in August.”
A TOTALLY doable goal. I think I’m gonna knock this one out of the park.