A Slightly Nutty Conversation Between My Gut and Myself about Moving My Feet…faster

The scene: YMCA indoor track – 1 highly energetic running instructor, 10-12 women, 1 local weatherman (just an interesting fact, not really prevalent to the story) for speed work running class
The task: 8 laps, 16 laps, 8 laps, 8 laps at a 10K pace (walk a few in between to rest)

MY GUT: You can do this. It’s not that big of a deal…lots of people do this. All the time, you see them passing you by with those highly self-actualized smiles on their faces. One foot in front of the other. Why do you care that you’ve never been a runner before…so what if it’s a completely foreign land…you are doing it now. You’ve been doing it for weeks now.

MYSELF: Crap, I’m out of breath already. My lips are dry. My side aches. My legs feel like a damn elephants for God’s sake. Thud Thud…Thud Thud. I’m what they call a “heavier foot” runner…I think it’s code for “doesn’t quite lift the legs while running. Maybe I should slow down.

MY GUT: Seriously dude…your pain is not unique. Many others have tried this and actually…gasp…lived. You can too.

MYSELF: Yeah, but maybe I’m just not really built for this. I mean…I’m all cricketity (shut up…yes it IS a word). Did you hear the riDONKculous (another totally valid word) sound my knees made when I got up off the floor…I thought the load bearing wall was giving way.

MY GUT: You’re impossible. It’s not just about you…it’s about them too. Your kids…and Hannah…remember? Get out of your head...think about their faces once they see you finish at the half-marathon. It’s about doing something hard to show them hard can be done. Hard makes it all worth it. Hard will make you stronger. Be stronger. Be more daring.

Myself: More daring? Stronger? You self-righteous piece of mush in my so called mid-region…I did deliver three children in the last 6 years. I don’t see you bouncing back from that. Good bye bikini forever. Thank you very little.

MY GUT: First of all…let’s remember I’m just a representation of your will and not your actual mid-region. Come on…first the right…now the left…

Myself: Oh crap, I still have 8 more laps to go and I almost fainted after only shaving off 3 seconds from my mile time trial. Man. Oh, there’s Jo. Do NOT make eye contact with runner instructor…do NOT make eye contact with...

TO INSTRUCTOR: “Oh hey Jo! Yes, I did run last Sunday…4 miles…yeah it blew because of a side ache…but it’s getting better. Yup, I’ve got 8 more laps to go. My last 8 were kinda slow…oh, what’s that? You want me to go faster now? Okay. Got it. You bet.”

Myself: NOOoooo problem (insert sarcasm here). And we are going again…you idiot…why the need to admit the slowness? And of course omit the throat full of desert sand and legs stuck in peanut butter kinda sensations? Rookie mistake…never again.

MY GUT: Hey look…you’re still doing it! One more song on the IPOD and then you’re done.

1 ½ songs on the IPOD later…and…Done.

Myself: MUST GET WATER.

Jo: Hey Kim, you’re getting the big “A” today.

Me to Jo: (Kim looking at Jo as if she is suspect) Whatdaya mean “A”?

Jo: For Adjustment. Your were faster this week. We're adjusting your times. Yeah!

Others (who so obviously also drink the kool-aid too) in the background: Oh Yeah! Good job! Adjustment!

Myself: What in THE hell did you do? Crap.

MY GUT (always with the last word): Be proud of your elephant like heavy footedness! You stomped your way into improvement! Time to give a highly self-actualized smile…now go stretch before your hamstring breaks in two.