Run For Your Life, Fat Girl
I actually started writing this blog 2 weeks ago, right after the Eastside 10k, when I was riding that runner's high. And then life happened, as it does, and now I'm rewriting the whole thing the day before the Run for the Cure. So, did you guess it? The topic of this blog is running!
I am, by no means, an expert runner. Not even close. At the beginning of this year, my friend Carmen mentioned that the BMO Marathon conveniently happened to fall on her birthday, and that me signing up would be a great birthday gift. She was wrong, as that is a fucking terrible birthday gift, but I signed up anyway. No, not for the full marathon - she and I wouldn't be friends any longer if that was the case - but they had a wee baby 8k on the roster that we figured would maybe be attainable for me (she did the half marathon, by the way. She is WAY fitter than I am). Without her nudge in the right direction, I never would have embarked on this little journey to learn how to run. I would still be where I was before, struggling to run any further than 400-500m without cursing the entire world. I still curse the world, but at least I can run a bit further now.
With that said, allow me to offer my completely amateur advice for any other folks who can't run for shit, but think they might wanna give it a go.
Download a learn to run app!
I used the C25K app when I first started training, which did a great job of coddling and easing me in, like the giant baby I am. You start with short interval runs, like 30 seconds running, 1 minute walking, and grow from there. One great thing about the app is you can repeat the units as many times as you need. So, you don't feel ready to do sets of 2:1? No sweat, redo the 1:1 for another few days. Don't feel judged by a fucking app - just use it as a tool. It's actually amazing how quickly your endurance improves just running 2-3x/week. The first time I ran for 10 minutes without stopping, a real life choir of angels descended from heaven to celebrate my achievement. No lie. I saw them and definitely wasn't hallucinating.
Get a good bra!
Ladies with large tatas, raise your hands. Now, keep your hands up if you've ever used your sisters as an excuse to get out of running or exercise in general. Yes, my hand used to be up there too, but I'm here to tell you that you can, in fact, run with breasts. Even big ones. But you have to strap those bitches down with a solid bra. No, not those Lululemon bras every Vancouver marathoner/yogi swears by, because, no offense Lulu I love your pants, but your bras ain't shit for anyone with more than a handful of sweater meat. My preferred sports bra is called the Shock Absorber, and you can snag one at The Bay for around $50. They go up to an H cup, and they are fantastic quality and even relatively comfortable. Don't fret if you are larger than an H cup - I was too when I first started fitnessing. You'll want to wear slightly smaller than your normal size anyway, so when I wore a HH/I cup bra, I still didn't even need the largest cup size for the Shock Absorber. OK, enough about my boobs. Moving on!
Get outside!
Oh treadmills are great and fine, but, sorry to break this to you, but they are boring as fuck. Even if you've got the funniest podcast or grimiest playlist blasting while you're pounding your way around that fake racetrack on the treadmill display, it's pretty hard to forget that you're looking at a fucking wall. You'll hit plenty of walls when you're running - you don't need to stare at one while you train. So get your ass outside! Breathe the fresh air! See all the weird people! Enjoy that sense of superiority that you're out getting your grind on while everyone else is just walking like fucking commoners! I know that treadmills can be easier on your knees and ankles, so obviously chat with your doc if you fear running on pavement will be detrimental. But, as someone who has had to go through physio for both my knees and ankles, I haven't had any issues since starting to run. My astounding ability to trip over literally nothing is down to my general clumsiness, and often alcohol, rather than my shitty joints
Find a friend to run with!
If you're like me, while you're learning to run, you're going to prefer to do it alone. That's totally fine - you want to go your own pace and not 'slow someone else down'. But, once you've got that foundation of endurance, sharing it with someone else can be great. I'm lucky enough that my gym organizes a stellar run crew Spring through Autumn (holla Cheetahs!), and joining them was a huge step in improving both my ability and enjoyment of running. When I ran by myself, I'd make excuses as to why I needed to stop, but with the group, I felt pushed and inspired to keep going. I am 99.9% of the time the slowest one in our group, but you know what, I don't fucking care at all. I run with a kick ass crew, laughing and cruising through our gorgeous city at sunrise every Wednesday. So, find a buddy, plan a route, set a pace, and take lots of selfies along the way. Run in silence or shoot the shit. Just push each other. And then go out for a beer after.
Go slow!
Right before the BMO 8K, I was shit-scared and felt completely unprepared. My mum's advice was to go slow. Yes, simple advice, but probably the best I've received. She said, everyone is going to sprint out the gate as soon as the race starts, and then they're going to get gassed and falter after a couple KMs. So, go slow, slower than feels comfortable. That is exactly what I did, and lo and behold, by halfway through the course, I still had plenty of gas in the tank and was passing people all over the place. Of course this advice isn't going to win you any marathons, but I don't think anyone who is reading this blog right now for tips is looking to accomplish that just yet. You're like me - you just want to make it to the finish line in one sweaty piece. So, cool your fucking jets, Usain, and remember that the finish line will still be there waiting for you to meet it at your own pace.
Stay sexy, don't get murdered
It helps to have a reason for learning to run. Sure, fitness is a great reason. But you know what is a better reason? Not getting murdered. Before I could run, I would wonder what I'd do if I was being chased down by an ax-wielding maniac. The answer was that I would definitely get murdered because there would be no way I could outrun him (or her. I'm an equal opportunity murder victim). They would be enjoying Michaelakebabs over his BBQ that night, dining on my sweet fatty meat. Now, I definitely feel like my odds of getting murdered are probably at least 25% less. Factoring in the heavy ax they would be carrying, I reckon I could outrun your everyday basement-dwelling, society-hating psycho killer. Don't test me on that though... just like... trust me
Just fucking do it!
It doesn't matter if you are the last person to cross the finish line. What matters is that you fucking did it. That is my motto for the 3 races I've done so far, and it's my motto for all the runs I'll ever do. It's not about being the fastest. It's about celebrating the fact that I can actually fucking do this. It's about celebrating my progress and hard work. It's pretty much the only time in my life that I feel consistently proud of myself, and that's worth celebrating too. For anyone who suffers, as I do, from low self esteem, the surest way to find a glimmer of self love is to do something you never thought you could do. That is some sappy fucking shit, but it's true.
Peace and love, y'all. See you at the finish line.
I am, by no means, an expert runner. Not even close. At the beginning of this year, my friend Carmen mentioned that the BMO Marathon conveniently happened to fall on her birthday, and that me signing up would be a great birthday gift. She was wrong, as that is a fucking terrible birthday gift, but I signed up anyway. No, not for the full marathon - she and I wouldn't be friends any longer if that was the case - but they had a wee baby 8k on the roster that we figured would maybe be attainable for me (she did the half marathon, by the way. She is WAY fitter than I am). Without her nudge in the right direction, I never would have embarked on this little journey to learn how to run. I would still be where I was before, struggling to run any further than 400-500m without cursing the entire world. I still curse the world, but at least I can run a bit further now.
With that said, allow me to offer my completely amateur advice for any other folks who can't run for shit, but think they might wanna give it a go.
Download a learn to run app!
I used the C25K app when I first started training, which did a great job of coddling and easing me in, like the giant baby I am. You start with short interval runs, like 30 seconds running, 1 minute walking, and grow from there. One great thing about the app is you can repeat the units as many times as you need. So, you don't feel ready to do sets of 2:1? No sweat, redo the 1:1 for another few days. Don't feel judged by a fucking app - just use it as a tool. It's actually amazing how quickly your endurance improves just running 2-3x/week. The first time I ran for 10 minutes without stopping, a real life choir of angels descended from heaven to celebrate my achievement. No lie. I saw them and definitely wasn't hallucinating.
Get a good bra!
Ladies with large tatas, raise your hands. Now, keep your hands up if you've ever used your sisters as an excuse to get out of running or exercise in general. Yes, my hand used to be up there too, but I'm here to tell you that you can, in fact, run with breasts. Even big ones. But you have to strap those bitches down with a solid bra. No, not those Lululemon bras every Vancouver marathoner/yogi swears by, because, no offense Lulu I love your pants, but your bras ain't shit for anyone with more than a handful of sweater meat. My preferred sports bra is called the Shock Absorber, and you can snag one at The Bay for around $50. They go up to an H cup, and they are fantastic quality and even relatively comfortable. Don't fret if you are larger than an H cup - I was too when I first started fitnessing. You'll want to wear slightly smaller than your normal size anyway, so when I wore a HH/I cup bra, I still didn't even need the largest cup size for the Shock Absorber. OK, enough about my boobs. Moving on!
Get outside!
Oh treadmills are great and fine, but, sorry to break this to you, but they are boring as fuck. Even if you've got the funniest podcast or grimiest playlist blasting while you're pounding your way around that fake racetrack on the treadmill display, it's pretty hard to forget that you're looking at a fucking wall. You'll hit plenty of walls when you're running - you don't need to stare at one while you train. So get your ass outside! Breathe the fresh air! See all the weird people! Enjoy that sense of superiority that you're out getting your grind on while everyone else is just walking like fucking commoners! I know that treadmills can be easier on your knees and ankles, so obviously chat with your doc if you fear running on pavement will be detrimental. But, as someone who has had to go through physio for both my knees and ankles, I haven't had any issues since starting to run. My astounding ability to trip over literally nothing is down to my general clumsiness, and often alcohol, rather than my shitty joints
Find a friend to run with!
If you're like me, while you're learning to run, you're going to prefer to do it alone. That's totally fine - you want to go your own pace and not 'slow someone else down'. But, once you've got that foundation of endurance, sharing it with someone else can be great. I'm lucky enough that my gym organizes a stellar run crew Spring through Autumn (holla Cheetahs!), and joining them was a huge step in improving both my ability and enjoyment of running. When I ran by myself, I'd make excuses as to why I needed to stop, but with the group, I felt pushed and inspired to keep going. I am 99.9% of the time the slowest one in our group, but you know what, I don't fucking care at all. I run with a kick ass crew, laughing and cruising through our gorgeous city at sunrise every Wednesday. So, find a buddy, plan a route, set a pace, and take lots of selfies along the way. Run in silence or shoot the shit. Just push each other. And then go out for a beer after.
Go slow!
Right before the BMO 8K, I was shit-scared and felt completely unprepared. My mum's advice was to go slow. Yes, simple advice, but probably the best I've received. She said, everyone is going to sprint out the gate as soon as the race starts, and then they're going to get gassed and falter after a couple KMs. So, go slow, slower than feels comfortable. That is exactly what I did, and lo and behold, by halfway through the course, I still had plenty of gas in the tank and was passing people all over the place. Of course this advice isn't going to win you any marathons, but I don't think anyone who is reading this blog right now for tips is looking to accomplish that just yet. You're like me - you just want to make it to the finish line in one sweaty piece. So, cool your fucking jets, Usain, and remember that the finish line will still be there waiting for you to meet it at your own pace.
Stay sexy, don't get murdered
It helps to have a reason for learning to run. Sure, fitness is a great reason. But you know what is a better reason? Not getting murdered. Before I could run, I would wonder what I'd do if I was being chased down by an ax-wielding maniac. The answer was that I would definitely get murdered because there would be no way I could outrun him (or her. I'm an equal opportunity murder victim). They would be enjoying Michaelakebabs over his BBQ that night, dining on my sweet fatty meat. Now, I definitely feel like my odds of getting murdered are probably at least 25% less. Factoring in the heavy ax they would be carrying, I reckon I could outrun your everyday basement-dwelling, society-hating psycho killer. Don't test me on that though... just like... trust me
Just fucking do it!
It doesn't matter if you are the last person to cross the finish line. What matters is that you fucking did it. That is my motto for the 3 races I've done so far, and it's my motto for all the runs I'll ever do. It's not about being the fastest. It's about celebrating the fact that I can actually fucking do this. It's about celebrating my progress and hard work. It's pretty much the only time in my life that I feel consistently proud of myself, and that's worth celebrating too. For anyone who suffers, as I do, from low self esteem, the surest way to find a glimmer of self love is to do something you never thought you could do. That is some sappy fucking shit, but it's true.
Peace and love, y'all. See you at the finish line.
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| Keep running and maybe one day you, too, can have shitty awful pictures taken of you as you collapse over the finish line |
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