Yeah. Not so much, it seems. I did my first C25K workout yesterday, and holy shit, I thought I was going to die. For some reason, jogging is a lot more work than 60 minutes of cardio. I don't know why, but it felt different. Harder. Lots harder. I couldn't finish the first workout, but seriously, I'm okay with that. I'll just have to repeat a week, it looks like. I mean, damn folks, I'm lugging around 200 plus pounds. Just getting halfway through the run was an accomplishment.
Even so, I had a rather embarassing experience. Okay. It was humiliating. So Dave and I live out in the boonies in this really pretty, very quiet, laid-back subdivision. I chose a running path along this country road that winds through farms, ranches, and equestrian centers. Last night, I was huffing and puffing and just trying to keep my feet moving. This truckload of teenage boys, maybe 15 or 16, approaches, and of course, they slow down as the pass me. They rolled down their windows and started calling me names. And, of course, I just happened to be running in front of a pasture full of cows. Yeah. I totally got mooed at.
So there I am, crying and running down this road, and thinking, holy shit, I've worked SO hard to lose 24 pounds, and oh my god, I still have a eighty pounds to go. Even though I can tell a difference in the way I look, and my friends and family can tell a difference, to every one else, I'm still FAT. It was so demoralizing.
Dave was really sweet and supportive about the whole thing. He had that angry tick in his jaw. If we hadn't been expecting house guests any minute, I suspect he might have gone off to find the little ass clowns. I have a feeling he'll want to join me as his escort from now on, lol.
No, I'm not going to dwell on this. And, yes, I realize they were just punk ass jerks. Still, it hurts. I've decided to use it as motivation to get through these (for me) grueling workouts.
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