Plus I Run

A couple of days ago was gorgeous outside so I did what any other self-respecting city girl would do and strapped on my rollerblades and headed out onto the open bike path. I've only used my blades once before [this season] so I impressed myself by doing my old route of 7 miles, ending in Etobicoke. I ain't gonna lie though: it was tougher than I remembered. There's a hill just at the bottom of Dowling Ave. in Marilyn Bell Park that is a total rush - like crazy exhilarating- to go down. It's like free falling with blades on. You don't even have to move your legs, just let the slope carry you away to the the tennis club below. Going back up this hill however? Not exhilarating. Fucking balls man! My quads, my calves, my lungs, everything in my body was tight as I tried to maneuver back up the hill without looking like it was killing me. This is key because traffic is right (I mean RIGHT) beside you. So people in cars who are stuck in said traffic have nothing better to do than gawk out their windows at the chubby chick with her ass poked out scrambling up a hill that others are simultaneously relishing gliding down. I am no longer a smoker but damn I can feel what it did to my lung capacity. I used to rule this hill!

I've been trying to kick my ass to the gym as often as I can lately and I can't say that it always works. But what works as supreme motivation is the idea that I am no longer fit enough to do something I used to do with ease. This makes my competitive streak flare up, even if I'm only competing against myself. The past 3 gym visits I've added running intervals to my routine. Running! Me! I haven't run with any serious intentions since I was 17 and even then I was a sprinter (OFSAA champion 2x baby!) not a long distance runner. This is changing. My fat Black ass is prepared to become a runner so that I can show this hill what for. I have been studying joggers all over the city and some of them are downright slow. This pleases me to no end. When I see one of these slow joggers I can't help but grin and think, "damn, even I can run faster than that!"
This is a lie. To be true I'd have to be, say, running to catch a streetcar (which I would never do) for a block, but give me a few blocks or 8 continuous minutes of running - even slowly- and I start cursing, then gasping, then holding my side to thwart the oncoming stitch.

I can walk 10 miles without breaking a sweat. I can blade 7 miles easy peasy lemon squeazy. I can swim laps like nobodies business. But dammit if running is giving me [pardon the pun] a run for my money. I've never in my adult life had any vested interest in the sport. I toyed with the idea, like anyone else, when I saw some sprightly White girl bounce by looking refreshed and serene while her endorphins floated her home. But suddenly I am deteremined. Mark my words: soon enough my intervals will get longer and eventually (the goal is by the end of the summer) I will be running in one long continuous 30 minute loop. I'll keep up the blading and continue my yoga Wednesdays (another surprise new love). No I won't ever become one of those crazy marathoners sucking down carbo loaded gels and wearing 4 bottles of water around my waist but I'll be able to run blocks without collapsing, improve my physicality, and outrun some of these old ladies jogging in front of my building ;-)