Wednesday Exercise
Sep. 19th, 2007 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jakebe
Time: 32 minutes
Distance: 2.82 miles
Speed: 6.0 mph
Calories: 284
In a holding pattern for now, mostly because this is the first full workout I've had in a while. Still, it's getting easier. I don't come home panting quite as hard; in fact, I'm getting to be just a bit winded. Once mid-October rolls around, I should be ready to push myself up to 35 minutes for a little while.
Per Aunt![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beruthful's suggestion, I went out and got a Runner's World Guide at Border's: Getting Started. It starts out with a bunch of runner's myths that I almost immediately found suspect. Apparently, running isn't bad for the knees; it's just a myth that people perpetuate for some odd reason. Is there anything that anyone knows about to back this up, or are they full of crap right off the bat? Anyway, the rest of the book looks pretty solid. They've even included several stretching exercises for warm-up and cool-down. Goodness knows I need them; my calves are burning pretty good almost constantly now when I run. This can't be good.
My iPod was completely out of juice today, so I unearthed an ancient Walkman that I hadn't used for a couple years, complete with an absolutely Methusaleh-ian (no it's not a word) mixed tape I made in college. This was the music that got me through the depressive haze of freshman year, the stuff I listened to so I could cut through the Zoloft haze and whether the worst of the nausea and insomnia that come as side effects. I remember going through such a horrible time back then, but it seems like a completely different person. I have a fondness for that younger me, as fucked up and unhappy as he was.
One of the songs on the mixed tape is "You Can Call Me Al" by Paul Simon, which brings to mind an old college friend by the name of Justin Bates. This is because we danced around like epileptics to it at least twice; once during rehearsals in the college theatre, once in my shoebox of a dorm room. Justin was the most genuine, honest, undeniably good person I've ever met. There was no bullshitting with him; he wore his heart on his sleeve, he saw the world as a completely beautiful place, and he did whatever he could to make sure other people saw it that way too.
I really miss Justin; after a point he found religion and became a hard-line fundamentalist for a while, and me, being the unrepentant little Wiccan at the time, couldn't see eye-to-eye with him to save my life. We parted ways and stopped talking, and he committed suicide about a month later. I still have no idea what caused that sudden, inexplicable break, and that equally sudden decision to end his life. Every once in a while a small thing will just unlock the door to my memories of him, and there's that dull ache of old wounds that have settled into you completely. It's the privilege of getting older to have these.
Distance: 2.82 miles
Speed: 6.0 mph
Calories: 284
In a holding pattern for now, mostly because this is the first full workout I've had in a while. Still, it's getting easier. I don't come home panting quite as hard; in fact, I'm getting to be just a bit winded. Once mid-October rolls around, I should be ready to push myself up to 35 minutes for a little while.
Per Aunt
beruthful's suggestion, I went out and got a Runner's World Guide at Border's: Getting Started. It starts out with a bunch of runner's myths that I almost immediately found suspect. Apparently, running isn't bad for the knees; it's just a myth that people perpetuate for some odd reason. Is there anything that anyone knows about to back this up, or are they full of crap right off the bat? Anyway, the rest of the book looks pretty solid. They've even included several stretching exercises for warm-up and cool-down. Goodness knows I need them; my calves are burning pretty good almost constantly now when I run. This can't be good.My iPod was completely out of juice today, so I unearthed an ancient Walkman that I hadn't used for a couple years, complete with an absolutely Methusaleh-ian (no it's not a word) mixed tape I made in college. This was the music that got me through the depressive haze of freshman year, the stuff I listened to so I could cut through the Zoloft haze and whether the worst of the nausea and insomnia that come as side effects. I remember going through such a horrible time back then, but it seems like a completely different person. I have a fondness for that younger me, as fucked up and unhappy as he was.
One of the songs on the mixed tape is "You Can Call Me Al" by Paul Simon, which brings to mind an old college friend by the name of Justin Bates. This is because we danced around like epileptics to it at least twice; once during rehearsals in the college theatre, once in my shoebox of a dorm room. Justin was the most genuine, honest, undeniably good person I've ever met. There was no bullshitting with him; he wore his heart on his sleeve, he saw the world as a completely beautiful place, and he did whatever he could to make sure other people saw it that way too.
I really miss Justin; after a point he found religion and became a hard-line fundamentalist for a while, and me, being the unrepentant little Wiccan at the time, couldn't see eye-to-eye with him to save my life. We parted ways and stopped talking, and he committed suicide about a month later. I still have no idea what caused that sudden, inexplicable break, and that equally sudden decision to end his life. Every once in a while a small thing will just unlock the door to my memories of him, and there's that dull ache of old wounds that have settled into you completely. It's the privilege of getting older to have these.
