This 4th of July, while most people were prepping for BBQs and fireworks, I decided to really celebrate freedom – by running four miles. To date, this is my longest run yet so the fact that I was able to squeak out more than a couple of miles only a week or so into my running journey is reason enough to make it a national holiday. Move over, America!
Turns out, four miles feels more like 40 when it’s hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk, but hey, anything for patriotism, right? With every sweaty step, I kept reminding myself that this run was in honor of freedom, fireworks, and my soon-to-be demolished post-run hot dog.
Did I regret it halfway through? You bet. Did I want to take a shortcut through the bushes following the wafting smell of burgers and steaks – you bet your stars and stripes I did! But nothing says independence quite like deciding to stop running… and then guilting yourself into finishing because you already told everyone you were doing four miles.
So there you have it – four miles, a lot of sweat, and one very exhausted runner. But hey, I did it for ‘Murica. Now, where’s that lemonade and pie?
So, I finally caved and joined Strava! You know, because what’s more motivating than having an app track all my suffering in real-time and broadcast it to the world?
If you’re unfamiliar, Strava is this magical place where runners, cyclists, and people who like to show off their workouts come together. Naturally, I figured I should join them and add my awkward, slow jogs runs to the mix.
Here’s the deal: I need more friends on Strava. Why? Because I’ll be very honest and say, I’m primarily running for the bragging rights. And if I can’t record and share my 3-mile struggle with the world, then it might as well have never happened. If you want to follow along (and by follow, I mean silently watch me struggle), my username is Ana K. It’ll be like reality TV but with more sweat and fewer dramatic confessionals… though there’s still a chance I’ll throw a tantrum mid-run.
So please, follow me, cheer me on, or just lurk silently while I try to convince myself that running is fun. Because, let’s be real, I need all the motivation (and judgment) I can get!
Catch you on Strava (and hopefully not lying on the sidewalk)!
Welcome to my little corner of the internet! I’m a full-time working mom of two boys, two dogs, and three cats and somehow, between the chaos of meetings, school pickups, soccer dropoffs, stepping on stray LEGO pieces and tripping over dog toys, I’ve decided that running 13.1 miles sounds like a fun idea. Welcome to my blog, where I’ll be documenting this wild journey from being a brand new runner to (hopefully) crossing the finish line of a half marathon in November….and trying not to die in the process.
Now, let’s get one thing straight, I have a complicated relationship with running. Always have. We’re kind of like those friends who pretend to like each other at parties but secretly roll our eyes when the other turns around. I’ve done some casual running in the past (translation: I’ve jogged after a toddler or a runaway grocery cart), but this is my first time actually training for something official. And boy, is it a rollercoaster.
In this blog, you’ll get a front-row seat to all my struggles, including:
The Battle of Waking Up Early: Why does every running plan insist on starting at 5am? Other hours of the day were created for a reason.
Learning All the Gear: Apparently, you need more than just sneakers. Who knew running required an entire wardrobe overhaul?
Running Lingo Decoded: PRs, tempo runs, negative splits – I didn’t realize I would have to Duolingo my way to becoming a runner.
Meeting Fellow Runners: Spoiler: The running community, I’m discovering, is incredibly supportive and encouraging! I walked (ran?) in thinking I would be elbowed out of the way to finish lines but the folks I’ve met so far have done nothing but hype me up. HAVE I FOUND MY PEOPLE?
So why am I doing this? Well, besides my lifelong ambition to become the person who has to stretch in public (very glamorous), I wanted to challenge myself in a way that involves more sweat than just the usual “oh no, I forgot to set my alarm” panic. I’ve always been an active person but this particular kind of torture is unexplored territory for me. Some people aspire to go to space – my aspirations more resemble those of a beached whale trying to get back into the water after being washed ashore.
Throughout this blog, you’ll find my attempts to outrun my own shadow, tips on how to prevent my shoelaces from tying themselves into knots (it’s already happened twice) and stories of how I had to verbally accost my own stomach to “get it together!” so I didn’t have to do a sweaty walk (waddle?) of shame to a port-a-potty.
So if you’re interested, join me for the ride – or the run, in this case – and let’s see if I can turn this love/hate relationship with running into something that resembles… survival? Either way, it’ll be an adventure where the only thing I’m training harder than my legs is my ability to make excuses!
Who knows? Maybe we’ll even make running look fun!