Running...

Whoever said exercise is fun, well... they lied.

But I've been thinking a lot about it lately. Namely, because it is summer time, and if there's ever a time you wish you were an exercise guru, it's when you are getting ready to head to the beach.  Also, whenever you live with someone training for a marathon, and that's kind of all he talks about...

I drag myself outside on sunny days and not so sunny days to walk. My mother-in-law goes with me most evenings.  On rainy days, I sometimes force myself to get on the treadmill and pray that I don't die from boredom. My only salvation is Dance Moms DVRd. I'm so thankful a new season just started.

Anyway, I digress.  Another reason why exercise is on my mind lately is because I have to do a research project for my doctorate... and the topic I picked is physical activity in women.  Why I chose this topic, I really don't know.. other than the fact that I am a woman and I really don't like physical activity.  I was hoping that in all of the hours of pulling up research articles and going through them with a fine-tooth comb I'd find some magical answer.  I don't like to sweat, which is a major problem.  And I don't like to be tired.  And I kind of like to veg out on the couch...

which brings me to my issue.  This time next year, I'm going to be presenting some kind of project to an IRB board, and convincing them that I should be allowed to do research on a group of people.  I've been formulating my ideas.  I've kind of even got a rough plan, after talking to my faculty advisor.  I'm going to motivate these women to exercise...

which means I should be motivated myself.  Hello.  And I'm afraid that doing my laundry does not count for adequate physical activity, even though Wallace can attest to the fact that by the time I actually get around to putting up clothes, I have to make multiple trips from the laundry room to the bedrooms. 

Back to running...

I like the idea of running.  I am kind of jealous of people who run, especially women runners who glow as they pound the pavement. Then I remind myself that it really isn't a glow... to put it in an attractive light, it's a sheen... because they are dripping in sweat... which I don't like, right?

Wallace assures me that if I could ever get over the hurtle, I'd like it.  (And I know hurdle is spelled with a d... but for me, it truly is a "hurt"le. Full of lots of hurt and whining and complaining.) He's a little addicted.  I'm not to that point yet... I like to actually get enough  oxygen to my brain when I breathe so that I don't pass out, and you can't hardly do that when you're gasping for breath... but today I did run.  Like two tenths of a mile, a couple of different times.  And maybe I did feel a little better after I got done. I'll never admit that to him, though.   Like a little less stressed.  Maybe tomorrow I'll try to run a little bit more. 

Baby steps, right? 

The point is to just. keep.  moving.  That's what my trouble has always been... giving up.  And that might be another problem with this whole running thing.  If I'm not good at something, I don't want to try it. Ouch... it really, really hurt to admit that.  Fact is, I will not be one of those pretty runners with a healthy sheen.  There's nothing pretty about gasping for breath and holding your side and feeling like you are going to die... and maybe even looking like you are going to die.

Anyway, the point of this whole long drawn out story is not to make you feel sorry for me.  Today I read Chapter 6 of John Maxwell's book 15 Invaluable Laws of Growth.  He talks about changing your environment in chapter 6, of stepping out of your comfort zone.  If running isn't doing just that, I don't know what is.  He also talks about making your goals public.  So there you go.  This time next year, I'm going to have at least ran a 5K.  Now my first thought was my marathon runnin' husband will not think that is a big deal, and for some reason, I feel like even after 17 years of being together, I have to impress him... which is totally bogus. And may put just a little bit of pressure on him, and cause undue expectations.

But as I thought of it, I think he will be impressed... because he knows I hate sweat and I hate being out of my comfort zone and I hate looking stupid.  I can't help but think maybe he might be just a tad bit proud, as proud maybe as I will be in September when he crosses that marathon finish line. 
To tell the truth, though, that doesn't matter, because I'll have done it.

And I'll be able to talk about it when I get up in front of that IRB board.  Somehow, I don't think that motivation to impress your husband is quite the factor they will be looking for to improve patient health outcomes.

Lord, help me.  Your grace is sufficient, even to help me run and to get through this doctorate program.  =)