Yesterday I set foot in my gym for the first time in 2010. Not because I've been avoiding exercise and overdosing on The Style Network, but because I've been getting my heart rate up and my muscles tortured outdoors for the past few months...
If you're a regular reader of my blog then you'll have followed me through the trials and tribulations of deciding to train for the Two Oceans Half Marathon, finding out (to my shock and horror) that I actually quite enjoy road running, dealing with the disappointment of not being able to enter the Two Oceans, making another plan, and entering the Knysna Forest Marathon with my ever fabulous little sister. The next progression on this journey has been and realising that I've got more out of pounding the pavement in a couple of months then I ever got from years in the gym dodging the steroid-pumped pretty boys in the free weights area and silicone enhanced 'yummy mummies' in the changing room.
Yesterday, my running buddy (the magnificent Drill Sergeant Groenewald) and I breezed through a ten-minute warm up on the treadmill (at a 10km pace, at a 3.0 incline), chatted throughout an easy three sets of stomach crunches on an incline bench, looked at each other in amazement when our nemesis, push-ups, wasn't as bad as we'd remembered, and managed to do three, 60-second, core-strengthening planks with a lot less whining and swearing than usual. Considering that neither of us had lunged, squatted, bicep-curled or tricep-dipped in almost three months, we really had expected yesterdays 90-minute strength training workout to be as pleasant as only finding out about a 75% off Louis Vuitton sale after the event.
What we found was that our bodies were stronger, our muscles tougher and our stamina dramatically increased. Maybe the exercises weren't easier, maybe our will power was stronger. You see, I'm learning that running is as much about mental strength as it is about physical fitness – nothing beats your head saying 'yes I can', when your body says 'no, I can't'... While I haven't seen much of a difference on the scales, my body is in better condition and it can do more stuff. It's really pretty cool to be becoming less focussed on what it looks like and more focussed on what it can do. That pretty blonde stick insect might be able to get into that size 6 pair of Marion & Lindie high-waisted shorts, but can she run up a really steep 2km hill in ten minutes?
Every blister, every ache, every moment when I thought my heart was going to leap out of my throat and my lungs were going to implode has been worth it. Even the dark purple toenail on my left foot that is preparing to fall off as I type this was a necessary evil, a tiny negative in a Marc Jacobs tote bag of positives.
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