Beautiful, wonderful running

Either the endorphins are coursing vigorously through my body right now or I genuinely love running.

Or both. Likely both.

I was killing time yesterday at the local Barnes & Noble when I came across the May issue of Runner's World magazine. Across the top, it said something that grabbed my attention.

Special Beginner's Guide

I'm a special beginner! I grabbed the magazine off the shelf. I sat up reading it last night, past my bedtime, filing away ideas for my next runs. My week's schedule ended up a bit askew, so I figured I'd run on Friday, taking today off.

And as I laid awake in bed, all I could think of was running.

So I ran.

I've been frustrated lately with the fact that I haven't been making much progress with my stamina - at least, I haven't perceived it. Two months ago, I was running two or three minutes at a time before I needed to walk. Last week, I was doing the same thing. Sure, I've gotten faster in my intervals, but even when I drop my speed back, I struggle to break just a few minutes.

It's left me feeling like I'm doing something wrong, or that I'm not trying hard enough.

Armed with some ideas gleaned from Runner's World, I hit the treadmill this afternoon. I covered the display with my towel and only allowed myself to see my speed. (Since I still run intervals, I need that.) I put down my iPod. I paid attention to myself, and only myself.

Today's tactic was to start strong in my running, but instead of dropping to a walk when I tired, I slowed my speed slightly. And then slowed it again. I was challenging my body to recover slightly without needing to walk. By the time I had to walk, I reasoned, I would have stretched my running time past those two or three stubborn minutes.

Whether or not my clever "recovery" idea paid off, I don't know. What I do know is that by the time I needed my towel to dry my face for the first time, it had passed the 9:30 mark and I was just beginning to walk for the second time.

I had made it nine minutes with only one break. Huh.

Even though I wasn't watching my times and distances, exactly, I still wanted to know my mile times. As I approached the mark, I peeked at the distance, whipping off the towel only when I reached each mile, to make a mental note of how it was going.

And wouldn't you know, I set a new personal record on every single mile.

I shaved :02 off my one mile record, finishing in 11:20. I took :46 off my two mile record, finishing in 23:24. Best of all, I took 2:11 off my three mile record, finishing in 36:24.

My god, people. That's a pace of 12:08 per mile. Are you kidding me??

After finishing, I decided to weigh myself. The big six-month-iversary is tomorrow, after all. While a few days ago it was back to 204, it's now a bit higher. So. Bummer on that.

I've had to accept, with the progress I'm making in lifting and running, that perhaps I just need to chill out about the weight loss right now. My pants are still getting looser. My body is still changing. It's unfortunate that I'm not seeing the numbers I want on the scale, but I'm seeing so many other wonderful numbers that it's really hard to complain.

And foolish.

So here I am. Six months in and I've lost 34(ish) pounds. I've taken more than six minutes off my mile. I've dropped three pants sizes. I've become comfortable in my body and I've found pride in myself. These things are priceless.

Onward and upward, my friends.