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Once again, miracle of all miracles, I went running today. And walking. Because I'm so very chubby now that my knees have instructed me to be careful out there on those hills. And my lungs have chimed in their requests too.
Seems my body parts are willing to cooperate with my brain's instructions to run up the hills, so long as I'm careful and don't push them too much.
Funny body. Weird how it's changing. Weirder yet that I'm starting to recognize it as the fat-ish body again. Dang it. It was so cute and hot for a couple years there, between the babies and pre-menopause. I even have pictures to prove it.
Now it's back to it's recognizable chubby self.
"But it doesn't have to be this way," says the brain. "Remember all those athletes you saw this weekend? The ones at that party, who were eating and drinking as if time and distance didn't matter? Those little waif women who filled their plates twice and ate Hans' cake after dinner?"
Oh yes. I say. I remember them. I stood and watched them. And talked to them. And, if I recall, listened to them sigh as they said they weren't looking forward to their 9 mile run tomorrow after all this yummy fun.
9 miles. Nine.
That's 3 times more than I usually run.
When I run.
If I run.
But I bet if I ran 9 miles on a Saturday, I could eat and drink lovely things like homemade cake from Hans, the amazing retired baker of Hans' restaurant in Bend. I bet I could eat all the good things I want and not worry so much about the chubs coming to take over my knees and lungs and good looks.
Alas. I'll need to lose some chub before my body will even entertain the 9 mile idea. My best distance is 6 miles I think.
It's a physics thing, I hear. Something about every 5 pounds of fat stressing your joints as much as an elephant standing on the head of a pin. Or something.
It's so complicated. It makes me tired just thinking about it.
Guess I'll go to bed and try again tomorrow.
5 comments:
It's all about trade-offs. As we, or at least I, get older I realize that more and more. Looking down at my knees, pushing the old gut in or leaning out a bit to see around it, I wonder how long ago I deiced to trade the wrong thing. :)
-Palehorse
I have a sudden worry that a steak sandwhich and a coconut martini may not be prolonging my life the way I'd like to belive they do in my fantasy world. Alas. Perhaps it's time to go all granola-head-hippy-ish and do the right thing for myself.
Just something to think about related to runner's knees: why not start cycling? I mean, not hardcore, just instead of your 3 mile run, use the bike. It is great exercise, doesn't pound on the joints, and you see a lot more along the way. just a thought. It worked for me.
As always, enjoyed you blog. LO)
I'm all about the jog-walk, especially since I too and a bit on the pudgy side. I figure there is no better way to get out there and just "do it". Eventually the pudge will be replaced by muscle (not near fast enough for me though) and I will do more of the jogging and less of the walking.
I the mean time, I sigh heavily whenever I see my reflection and look at the bins of my skinny clothes and force myself to work in some kind of workout when time and babies allow.
I have gone through bike spurts, and rode my bike to work for a year when I didn't work from home. I like the downhill parts. I even have a good exercise bike that I use as a last resort. Just don't like it as much.
I think it's the machine I'm rebelling against. I like powering my own self, and not so fond of walking up hill with my bike when I get tired. Makes me mad at the bike.
But, perhaps it's time to revisit the knee friendly bike...
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