Moderashun...Can't Even Spell It Any More

On Tuesday, two of the moms from the preschool suggested we go on a run together since we found out we're all planning on being in a race in March. I tried to warn them that I'm at the very very beginning of my running training and they told me, "No problem, we can just go slow and take it easy."

Me:
Ran first continuous mile in over six years a week ago.
Did said mile on treadmill indoors, with iPod, waterbottle, and large-screen TV at hand.
Did said mile at 15 minute mile pace.
Considered this fantastic personal accomplishment.
So far overdid it I was too sick to drive to the doctor the next day.
Just finished my antibiotics two days ago.
Still can't take a deep breath or laugh without going into huge coughing fit.

Them:
Way far ahead of me.
And not sick.

When one of them mentioned that she'd mapped out a 2.5 mile course for us, I realized I might not have been quite clear enough as to how early-stage my training is. I was somewhat regretting having already tried to empty my dog of her outputs, as I couldn't even use doody duty as a reason to stop if I needed it.

If I haven't mentioned it before, my dog has the (unfortunate) habit of holding in all solid outputs until going out for exercise. Then she likes to make a minimum of two (and a record of five) "dropoffs" while we are out and about. This means that we have to not only have plenty of poop bags on hand, but that I end up carrying an aromatic bundle the size of a Santa sack if I don't take preemptive measures to empty her beforehand.

Once, this meant my husband had to go to a stranger's door and ask for a plastic bag so he could remove the lawn ornament our dog deposited (since he'd already used up the two bags he'd taken with him). They were grateful he picked it up and we learned that our new bag-to-the-park minimum count was 3. (Which is now up to 5.)

Wow, a two-paragraph tangent about dog poop.

Apparently I do need more grown-up conversation time.

Anyhow, we headed out, and I have to say I was extraordinarily grateful for the stoplight and busy street that meant I got a break. They were dedicated and jogged in place at the signal. I think we were maybe a quarter mile from where we started (maximum), and I was already gasping.

You know what? I'm totally blaming my cold for my insufficient lung capacity, because I should not have been quite that tired. Close, but not quite.

As we were then heading up what I never before considered a "hill," one of them announced that we were keeping--according to her training watch--a 13-minute-mile pace.

The out-loud groan I made must have been more pathetic than I actually intended, since they both immediately chimed in that I was doing GREAT.

Me:
Gasping for breath.
Wondering why I agreed to this.
Thinking this is more activity than the dog has had in awhile and she may well end up sore.
Gasping for breath.
Wondering how much longer I will be able to push myself just to keep up.
Did I mention I was gasping for breath?
Have stripped off my sweatshirt and gloves despite the cold temperature.

Them:
Chatting away about plans for a costume for disco BINGO night.
Clearly not gasping. (At least, not like me, because they could form actual out loud words.)

I hung in there, feeling throughout my body what I already consciously knew, which is that training on a treadmill is different, and I needed to do more, even for this "relaxed" pace.

At this point, it probably should have occurred to me that I might be overdoing it. Should have. But didn't.

We arrived at a park, and they decided they were going to loop around it. I told them to go ahead, and I would meet them at the other end of the loop, which came out maybe 50 feet ahead. I let the dog off the leash and she proceeded to run around madly in circles (she chases--and catches--her tail when she gets excited) and then she found something to roll in.

I tried yelling at the dog, but between the run and just not being able to take a deep breath anyway, ended up in a disgusting-sounding hacking coughing fit instead. I was rather glad my friends were far enough away that (I hope) they didn't hear me as they probably would have called for emergency medical help.

They finished their loop and I was almost breathing normally again, and we headed back in the direction we'd come from. I made it a few blocks...and was DONE.

I don't know how far I went, although I'm guessing I ran a total of about 1.25 miles. I know I went at a faster pace--and it was outdoors instead of on a treadmill, so it was a good change for me. Plus, I walked back to where we'd started and then we walked around a bunch more, so I probably did a total of close to 3 miles.

Know what? I didn't even think about my back.

But my adductors are already getting sore.

And the dog is sore too.