Run For It...

I tried something new over this vacation. No, it wasn't some new SuperFunMegaLand with the kids. It wasn't a new electronic gizmo for making and/or keeping vacation memories.

I went jogging.

I've been exercising regularly for 8 months now as part of my new-and-improved lifestyle. I spent last year losing weight; I am spending this year (and many thereafter, hopefully) keeping it off and molding my body into something less reminiscent of the Stay-Puft Marshmellow Man. So even on vacation I try to fit in a block of honest-to-goodness exercise (as opposed to calling the normal routine of chasing after the kids my exercise).

This past trip, I took an hour+ morning powerwalk each day, covering 4-5 miles of hilly terrain. One thing I've noticed about walking outdoors (as opposed to the treadmill) is that it's an inferior exercise - I don't even break a sweat. I tend to amble rather than power-walk, as a general course, so if I don't force myself to keep up a steady, fast pace, I wind up shuffling along.

This generally defeats the purpose of walking for exercise, as a rule...

So, for the first time since, oh, high school gym class, I ran. It was a slow(ish) jog; I'm certain that people that run regularly would have laughed like tickled hermits at my pathetic pace and poor form. But I was jogging. Me! Who used to scoff at the joggers on the street, sneering all the while. Who used to delight in Dennis Leary's riff on Jim Fixx, the reformed smoker and fatass-turned jogging guru who dropped dead of a massive heart attack while jogging. Who used to quip that "I only run if something's chasing me, and how fast I run depends on how large the thing chasing me is".

And the real kicker? I liked it. In a cruel and bizarre twist of fate, I find that I enjoy running. Now, I could only do it in smaller doses - I noticed my ankles starting to bother me after a mile or so, and there is a history of bad knees in my family - but still... Me. Jogging.

I half-expected to see airborne porcines...