“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” — C.S. Lewis
In case you were wondering, I got the idea to do the Experi-months from something that I started doing 3 months ago: running. I decided that I needed a goal in order to exercise consistently. If I don’t have a goal, I talk myself out of exercising. I’m a pro at excuses… “I’m tired,” “I just ate,” “My stomach is killing me today,” “It’s too hot/cold outside,” etc. So I decided that my goal would be to work my way up to running in a 5k.
This was quite the goal, considering I did not run. Ever. And considering that I have asthma… not just the out of breath kind either, but the really attractive wheezing variety. But I decided to try it for a month to see how it went. I printed out a plan that I found on the internet, which told me how frequently and how long to run. I had a plan. The plan was simple, much like Paris Hilton. But unlike Paris
Obviously, I tried my hardest to stick to the aforementioned plan. But I don’t think it was designed for the asthmatics of the world. I’ve made some amendments along the way, but have consistently been running 3 times a week. Before I started toward this goal, I hated running… mainly because I wasn’t good at it. But also because it brought back an assortment of not-so-warm-and-fuzzy memories of “The Mile Runs” that I suffered through as a youngster.
Traumatic anecdote: On a fall day in 3rd grade, I entered the gymnasium for P.E. class. I already detested this class with every fiber of my being. I have little athletic capability and an inhaler. You do the math. My gym teacher announced it was Mile Run day. I immediately weighed the options of faking sick so I didn’t have to participate… but she also mentioned that it was for a grade. The over-achieving sect of my body was suckered into it. So I begrudgingly took part. I could have walked the whole thing, but I wanted to attempt to run so that I would not be teased by the crazy children who finished in less than 5 minutes. Those jerks. But alas, I shortly needed my inhaler.
Of course, being in a public school, an “incompetent” child like myself was not allowed to have her own inhaler in her possession. This same inhaler that she had only been successfully using since birth. So I had to walk across campus to the nurse and employ it with her supervision. Splendid. When I returned 20 minutes later, I was informed that my time of completion included the time it took me to walk to and from the nurse. That seems fair…? Several days later, I received a “congratulatory” certificate, kindly noting that I had finished the Mile Run in 37 minutes. As if this was an accomplishment. Naturally, that was good enough for last place. I was waist-deep in a thick mixture of mortification, mockery, and self-deprecation. And this was the genesis of my tainted relationship with running.
But now, I don’t find running so revolting and emotionally scarring. It weirdly relaxes me. I actually kind of maybe look forward to it a little bit. My asthma only took about 2 months to conquer. What was initially laborious and somewhat painful, is now rather enjoyable. Who’d of thought it? After my trial month with running, I decided I liked it. I could go into the psychological explanation of this for you, but I may be the only person that finds that interesting. Two words: cognitive dissonance.
Due to my lung’s inability to stick to the plan, I haven’t reached my goal yet. And sadly, the brisk winter air is providing my breather-machine with another hurdle. In the past, my asthma has been the worst in the cold months. But I’m plugging along at my own pace. I can’t really tell how many miles I’m up to at this point, because I do intervals (switching from running to walking), but every time I run, I run longer than I ever have in my life. Progress, baby.
