Run Run Run

It’s been a long time, my friends. I won’t attempt excuses, but I will get you up to speed on how year 35 is going so far. Unfortunately, I haven’t shaken the clichés quite yet.

The latest change in year 35 is a new commitment to running. I am the least likely person to begin a running routine. Running always seemed so torturous, agonizing, just not fun. But one day after reading about a couch-to-5K program (http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml) and realizing that since I already own a pair of running shoes, the cost of this program would be nothing (Did I mention that I’m cheap?), I started shuffling down the sidewalk three times a week.

The sickening heat of summer has slowed me down a bit, but I can usually get in around 8-10 miles a week. I’m no Forrest Gump, mind you, but it’s a start. And I can honestly say that I have never stuck with an exercise program this long. There was a brief interlude with Billy Blanks in the late 90s (remember Tae Bo?), but other than that, I haven’t consistently gotten cardio in since my high school days of volleyball practice.

What I still have trouble with, however, is calling myself a runner. I jog fairly slowly and not far at all. So I don’t really know what one would call me. This refusal to identify has served me well throughout my life. I could easily drop hobbies and plans because I refused to associate with a certain category of people. I only practiced knitting for a few months. No knitter am I! Baking? Yes, I do enjoy it. But you can’t really call me a baker. Do I love Victorian literature? Sure! But don’t call that my area of expertise. I only dabble and wouldn’t want to limit myself.

As I think about this problem with identifying, it seems more like an excuse – a way to skirt the responsibility of belonging to a community of people or remaining committed to a discipline. So just for kicks in year 35, as long as I put on a pair of shorts (oh horrors!) and place one foot in front of the other in a semi-rapid movement along the pavement (at least making it around the senior walkers and small dogs out there), I’ll call myself a runner. Well, maybe jogger.

Discipline with the blogging? I’ll work on it.