Fitness. Though
reluctant to admit it, I sometimes say this word out loud while in the middle
of a workout to help get me through the pain.
However, fitness is a fairly new concept for me and I feel like it’s
safe to say that my maturity level on this topic could be defined as
“adolescent.”
Growing up, I never really put a value on fitness. As a kid, I didn’t need it and as a teenager,
I needed between 12 and 300 hours of sleep per night simply to function. By high school, many of us had already found
our sport of choice and I was in no position to pick and choose. I mean, what sport would’ve taken a chubby,
pre-pubescent 9th grader with braces and no experience? Maybe softball …
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| Pigtails, overalls, AND red lipstick to boot! You are a handsome young lady, Little C! |
So high school came and went without any real fitness.
“Well wait just a minute!
You were in marching band!
Doesn’t that count for anything?” some may say, to which I would
respond, “No, that is not nearly the level of fitness to
which I am referring … so … you’re dumb.”
Fast forward to college.
I decided to stop wasting my youth and get movin.’ I slowly (and very reluctantly) got into a
routine: Monday, Wednesday, Friday = Gym at 6 a.m. before work at 8 a.m. I must say, in retrospect, I am pretty proud
of myself, especially during our Michigan winters when my car was one of ten in
the parking lot, most of which belonged to the ROTC kids who HAD to be there.
It also didn’t hurt that I began dating an athlete who, you
know, exercised for fun. ‘Twas a foreign concept I had yet to realize.
Exercise (n.) Activity requiring physical effort,
carried out esp. to sustain or improve health and fitness.
Masochism
(n.) The enjoyment
of what appears to be painful or tiresome.
My new boyfriend was into competitive sports and enjoyed
exercise. Running, football, softball,
volleyball, basketball. Sigh.
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| Con: All the fitness that I'd have to be a part of if we expected to have a lasting relationship. Pro: He's wearing an Ireland T-shirt. |
Over time, a lot of time, I became slightly
interested in the concept of sports and exercise. Years of sitting on the sideline like a good
girlfriend were starting to have an effect on me, I guess. Greg tried to expose me to the fun side of
exercise and soon, he found that my sloth had its first weak spot: hiking. After college, we moved to the D.C. area
where there are many excellent hiking trails.
I had found a new love.
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| A hiking Caitlin is a happy Caitlin. |
In California, the hiking trails are also fantastic, but it was
not enough for me. Hiking is fun and a
great work out, but it must be done in daylight and most trails are a good
distance away from where we live. We
both needed something to do during the week.
Leave it to Greg to find our next physically strenuous adventure. He signed us both up to participate in a City
kickball league. A photo taken of me
even ended up in the City’s next activity newsletter.
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| Yeah, I’m sort of famous. No big deal. |
After some serious shin and ankle bruising (small price to
pay for excellence), I still struggled to find my “thing.” The one activity I could be passionate about
and stick to long-term was still missing from my life. Of course my default setting was to go back
to a life sans exercise but I came to the conclusion that, much like my Border
Collie Seamus, if I don’t exert a certain level of energy each day, both
mentally and physically, I get irritable and anxious. Begrudgingly, I knew what I had to do …
“Greg, I want to be a runner and eventually run a marathon.” Greg about died, more from shock than
amusement, though I think both emotions were present, if we’re being honest.
Despite his reaction of skepticism, he instantly became the
definition of supportive. He would
explain the pains I was feeling and why they were there, he would run with me at
my sad, pathetic pace as I gasped for air like a walrus, and he would
push me when I was feeling like giving up.
He even bought me a treadmill, (insert hearts here).
As I became stronger as a runner, we felt a need to set a
goal. We wanted to sign up for a 5K
race, which is 3.1 miles. Living in Southern
California, there is no shortage of races.
However, I was afraid of diving into this whole new world of runners,
most of which were fitter and thinner than me.
Weeks turned into months, all without signing up for a 5K. We briefly toyed with the idea of running at
Disneyland, but neither of us felt particularly pulled to that for our first
race.
Then … like the stars had aligned … I went to get my hair
done and I was chatting with my stylist, Marcus, about running and that I’d heard of a
place in Maryland – or somewhere – that hosted a zombie infested obstacle
course 5K. He then said there was one
coming here to Southern California in October!
Be still my heart. A chance to
act like an eight-year-old, running in the mud and over obstacles to avoid
getting eaten by zombies? Um, needless
to say I rushed home and immediately turned on the computer to show Greg. As expected, Greg was sold on the idea after
approximately 4 seconds.
So, our first 5K is officially going to be “Run For Your
Lives,” a zombie infested obstacle course race where the zombies try to take
your flags, which is your “health.” I
have never been so motivated to prepare for something so stupid … and I can’t
wait! It takes place on Sunday, October 21st, 2012.
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| Zombie apocalypse? Sign us up! |
Whether it’s running, swimming, biking, hiking – in a house
or with a mouse - I feel the shifting of priorities in my life; a fork where I’m
taking the road not expected. I believe
I will stick to this and continue to run because it’s healthy, it’s calming,
and it’s slowly becoming a part of me. I'm not where I want to be yet but, for the first time, I'm enjoying the "getting there" as much as the results.
