The Progress Report

A couple of days ago I passed the half-way point on the way to my reunion date.  Four weeks has past since I started my challenge workout, roughly another four to go.  My reunion is about a month away. Hard to believe.  That date is fast approaching. 

One of my classmates from high school, J.,sent me a note.  In the note, she mentioned in passing how much she's enjoyed hearing about my pre-reunion adventure.  I suddenly felt guilty that I really have not given much of status update out there...and so I have been thinking what I should say about that. My progress.  Not the guilt.  I have bigger issues than regular blogging to be guilty about. 

So the progress...

I have been bouncing some things off of my husband. You know, trying to get his feedback on my progress.  The dear fellow has actually become wise to the fact that when I ask him questions about certain things, I don't really expect a response. 

 Example...Me:  Did you think I would have been skinnier by now?  Him:  I don't know.  Did you think you'd be skinnier by now? 

My mother.  She gives it to me straight.  She was the one that said, when Samantha was a perpetually smiling infant, "Oh she smiles so much, it makes me think she's simple."  Simple.  Not negative.  But not leaning toward the opinion that it's positive.  I still bring that up with her to this day.

Anyway, she says earlier in the week, "Well, you really seemed to get in shape faster  and lose so much weight when you were just running around the neighborhood at the beginning of the summer."  Fantastic.  So busting my butt in the sweltering city is yielding less results than the casual jaunt around the 'hood.   Hey.  She's honest.

And my battle with the scale.  I really have been avoiding the conflict.  I haven't gotten on there to check any changes.  I wanted to wait to maximize the results.  Yeah.  Too bad I've actually gained 3 pounds.

I guess I don't really feel like much progress is being made for the amount of effort I've been putting in.  Maybe that's why I haven't really been compelled to write much about it.

I did my first 5k today with my friend and her sister.  I am a people watcher.  And this 5k crowd provided me ample fodder for my observational folly.  I was looking the other runners over.  Some of them were in phenomenal shape.  Crazy folk who were running full-out sprints around the area while we leisurely checked in and sipped our water.  I just envisioned them as these speedy, slick little sports cars that were going to blaze this race course in no time.  I, personally, felt like a work truck.  A solid, steady work truck.  I was not going to set any records.  But I would finish the race. And -  it was going to be my personal best.  Afterall, it was my first 5k.

So.  Here I am pre-race lamenting to my friend and her sister that I am not making progress in my quest to become like one of the slick, sportsters jetting around the grounds of the race site.  I have not lost weight.  I am still exhausted and sore after every workout.  I don't feel like I have mastered any of the technical movements that I'm learning.  Then, my friend, J. pipes up."Hey. At the start of all this you said that you couldn't even go up a flight of stairs without feeling winded."  True that.  "Do you feel like that now?" Hey. She is right.  I can do a flight of stairs without losing my breath.  I am getting stronger.  And I was just getting ready to do my first 5k.  Not too bad.  Progress.

Then we were off to do our 5k.  A beautiful day.  A beautiful course.  I ran (or something similar to a run) the whole thing.  At some points, I felt like walking. But I kept on working. Kept running.  And I finished strong, just beating someone out in front of me at the final stretch (did I mention I am a wee bit competitive?)

I just checked my time.  I did it in 33:27.1 minutes.  My first 5k. 

Not bad for a work truck. 

Progress.