The Sober Truth

July 2, 2007 – 8:59 pm |

A couple days after I committed to actually running ten miles, it started sinking in that I had some serious work to do.  Being both a first born child and a Virgo, I’m nothing if not an efficient and enthusiastic planner.  So, naturally, I did what anyone preparing for a difficult physical challenge would do.   I put on my sweat pants, and I sat down at my computer with a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and a Coke.  I began mapping out the variables, assessing my options, considering what to do and plotting the logistics.

First, I knew I would need a training plan. It’s been close to ten years since I was involved in any kind of regular exercise regimen, and I wasn’t sure where to begin.  I conducted some in depth research into the appropriate training for a ten mile run.  (In other words, I typed  “training programs for a ten mile run” into Google, and I clicked “search.”)  I don’t know Hal Higdon, but I thought his plan for the novice runner seemed to fit the bill.  After all, if I can call myself any kind of runner, it’s definitely a novice one. I printed out the chart and stuck it on my refrigerator.   

Next, in order to really motivate myself, I created a Countdown calendar for my Google homepage to show me just how little time I have left until the big race.  (Incidentally, it’s ticking away as I type this with just over three months remaining.)  Then I spent about an hour fiddling around trying to see if I could get the countdown to appear here on this blog. (The results of that hour should be obvious.)

With the motivational tools completed and the Doritos empty, it was time to really get down to business.  I headed to Target.  Because I definitely could not start running until I had some fancy stickers to mark my progress on the refrigerator chart.  When I started looking around the Big Red Store I found a number of other must-haves.  The hot pink “runner’s belt” with room for a cell phone was clearly a necessity for any running mother.   I tend to be a slow shopper, but unfortunately, once I’ve placed one item in the big red cart, well, related pieces usually start flying off the shelves.  I tallied up another $50 on “running” shorts and a “running” shirt. 

Once the training plan was clearly designed and in place and the gear was purchased, the next step, of course, was to get started reorganizing my house.  A person really can’t improve her physical well-being, I reasoned, with her feng shui all askew.  I replaced a closet door or two and sorted the kids’ craft supplies.  I was just about to start cleaning out the refrigerator when something amazing happened.

I saw it there.  The reward chart.  Sad, empty, stickerless.  And, finally, reluctantly, I went to the gym.