Trailing Off....: Drug Run

This kid not good at sports? Shocking!

As a kid, I was one of the only few in the Y swimming classes to never move beyond the “minnow” group to the coveted cool kid group of "dolphins" or "sharks". In gymnastics, when we did backbends, I was the one who, instead of looking like a leotard clad rainbow, looked like a coffee table. In junior high, I was a benchwarmer for the “C” team of girls’ basketball (this was before schools tried making the distinction less obvious by using colors and random nouns). I was the only 7^th grader who tried out for cheerleading to not be picked. In high school, the ever-stressed, ever-pushed over Mr. Drake graciously let me onto the show choir team despite by near inability to even master basic jazz hands. All I heard growing up was that I lacked the basic endurance, flexibility, skill, and grace needed to do anything remotely athletic. I’m not sure I would have qualified to even be a ball girl or water bearer.

Though I’ve consistently been a train wreck at sports, I like exercise. I’ve endured ridicule in American and foreign gyms as I’ve tried to keep up in that month’s flavor of dance-meets-aerobics-meets-torture class. I’ve joined gyms and hamstered it out on the treadmill (ellipticals are too elusive) and done my time on the weight circuits. And why? One reason is to combat the effects of my love of food. But two, I like the high you get when you reach the “zone”, that blissful moment where you feel you could keep going forever. If you are the type that enjoys mind-altering substances, exercise is a natural and safe dealer. And for me, the dealer has come lately in the form of outdoor running/jogging. I use "running/jogging" as a term because there doesn't seem to be any definitive difference between the two and I don't want to be pretentious by saying "running" when I'm actually doing what real "runners" would call "jogging". And if I am really "running" and not "jogging", I want my street cred.

track behind the house I lived in in Nanjing, China

I started running/jogging in China when I had a track in my backyard (a very, very rare thing in a huge city!). But I often gave up before getting the high. Running around in small circles was too close to a physical reflection of my current life, not to mention the toxic fumes from the construction site next door. In Songkhla, I started running/jogging up and down the beach road but couldn’t seem to push myself past a certain point. I would be going along not even particularly tired, and something in my head would say, “Ahh, just stop. Just stop kidding yourself.” And I would stop and walk home feeling like I had lived up to my potential.

But then I think I woke up one day and said "I'm going to do this" though I can't remember which day or consciously having the thought. Or clearly defining what "this" was. I started off with a small distance and did that four or five times until it was easy, and then I went a bit further until that new distance felt easy. As of now, I'm able to run/jog about 8-9km in an hour. These are the things that worked for me. I write them here more for myself for the inevitable time when the high of the high wears off and I need to get back on track.

First goal was to reach here and now this is where I feel I'm just warming up

1. The most important change I made was changing my route. I used to run up and then back down a busy beach road that had a zillion motorbikes and no change in scenery. Also backtracking is something that always annoys me in any situation. So my new morning route goes along the quieter part of the beach road, past a dozen seafood restaurants that are setting up for the day, past a remote control aircraft club, through a quiet forest full of cranes and butterflies, past an abandoned campground where all the bungalows look like KKK hats, past a water fountain and strange sculptures, along a street full of small carts selling soup and fried donuts, and to the market where I can by fresh meat, veggies, and fruit for the day. Varied, mostly quiet, and purposeful.

2. I had to stop stopping because as it turns out, after the initial difficult 5-10 minutes, it actually gets easier. Strange. It surprises and delights me every time.

3. It's no secret I have abysmal posture. So focusing on standing straight, taking in and letting out breaths in a steady rhythm makes everything less painful. The focus on breathing and keeping my shoulders back also puts me in a meditative state in which I can block out the negative thoughts that usually make me want to stop.

4. I bought a nice sports bra.

It's not a huge accomplishment; I haven't lost any weight or won any awards and it could potentially lead to ruined knees and the disintegration of other bones. But I feel so energized--high--and refreshed after I wash off all the sweat, and at night, sleep is no enemy. And who knows? Maybe when I get to Dublin this summer, I'll put on a sweater, tape a number to it, and take my chances competing among others who are out to get a fix.

Part of the route goes past....