Day 12: "The Walk" - An Underdog Story

Sooo....I just finished my walk, and I am FIRED UP!

Not in the happy, hyper, proud way that I was from my last walk.

NoOoOoOoO...this an angry, defiant, determined kind of adrenaline rush.

It's not bad mind you...just different.  It made my "30" minute walk feel more like one of those epic underdog athlete movies, complete with motivational freaking sound track.

BECAUSE I am particularly fired up, I may use more "colorful" language than usual so, be forewarned.

So, I get up early, eat my cereal and then set up my post-workout materials (almonds, ice water and vitamin water) while my breakfast digests.  I get dressed in the most workout appropriate clothing that I have, set up the app on my phone (FINALLY complete with my work out playlist.  :o)  And set off towards the park behind my house.

Now, if you are following my blog, then you know that my last walk was UH-MAZE-ZING!  I hauled ass, felt great, didn't get winded till about 23 minutes in, got up to 4 mph at one point and even hit the mile mark in 19 minutes.  Not bad for a chubby chick's second try.

So, I set out into the world with my head held high, ready to once again make that track my bitch.

Imagine my confusion when I start struggling for breath less than five minutes in.  I try to force myself to breathe more deeply...to concentrate on drawing in the air and exhaling slowly so that I'm breathing more efficiently but somehow, the harder I try to make it better, the worse it seems to get.

At .4 miles into the walk, I am gasping and wheezing so badly that I'm afraid I'm moments away from going into a full blown asthma attack.  I walk over to some bleachers and thread my fingers through the fencing, trying to support my upper body while I struggle to catch my breath.

And I AM PISSED!

WTH is going on?  I did everything the same as last time and that was only two days ago, so what's the problem?

This is the moment when that 1980's song "I Need a Hero" starts up.

I mumbled "Fuck this shit!" and I push myself from those freaking bleachers and force myself to march to that damn beat!

Next, a song comes on that I wasn't entirely sure about putting on my playlist to begin with, but it's appropriateness at the moment was so perfect that it must have been fate.  I'm struggling to keep up my pace, ignoring the sun above, the blue sky beyond or the bright blue lake beside me.  My eyes were burning too badly at this point to appreciate them anyway.  Instead,  I'm just staring at my feet...staring at the uneven path before me...one step at a freaking time.  One.  By.  One.

Then "If only I could get through this...I gotta get through this.  I gotta get through this!  I gotta make, gotta make, gotta make it through!  Said, I'm gonna get through this.  I'm gonna get through this!  I gotta take, gotta take my mind off of you [the gasping and wheezing].  Give me just one second and I'll be alright.  Surely one more minute couldn't break my heart."

I steady my heartbeat and try once again to focus on my breathing.  Step....Step...Step...

I come to terms with that fact that I am not going to make my 19 minute mile like last time and just do my best to maintain my speed - no slower and no faster.  Instead of worrying about my 30 minute goal, I focus on a goal of covering the same distance as last time as fast as I can.

Then, my little cardio trainer app informs me that I am at .8 miles, 17 minutes.  WHAT?!  I MIGHT BE ABLE TO MAKE MY 19 MINUTE MILE!

I bust my ass trying to get to that mile marker in two minutes.  The arms are swinging, the hips are swaying and I'm mouthing along to the words of Annie Lenox's "Broken Glass" while I curse myself.

"C'mon ChuChi!  You can do this, dammit!   Move that fat ass!  Push it girl - you hit that damn 19 minute mile!  Fuck...PUSH!  PUSH!  PUSH!"  I'm like one of the sadistic sled drivers in "Call of the Wild".  "Mush, you damn mutt!  MUSH!!!!!!"

Then, the little robotic voice reports again, without feeling:  "1 mile, 20 minutes."

ARGH!!!!!!!   I literally growled out loud and punched at the air.

There was no more push in me.  I was back to step...step..step...  One foot flopping after the other without rush.  I was happy that, no matter how terribly I felt like I was slacking, my speed never dropped below 2.9 mph and, even in exhaustion, I was still periodically getting up to 3.5 mph.  But the adrenaline rush was gone.  I just wanted to cover the damn distance and get home by that point.

Linkin Park's "Numb" began to play - the song that so powerfully energized me last time.  I sang to myself this time:  "Don't know what you're expecting of me, Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes...  (Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)  Every step that I take is another mistake to you... (Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)"

Even when the park worker on the lawn mower waved to me, I half-heartedly waved back, not really feeling it.

That was when it hit me.

I looked around the track, noting the three different, industrial sized lawn mowers I had passed as they mowed the grass around the track.  I watched as the tiny bits and pieces of grass particles blew up into the air, mixing with the wind that I had been inhaling.

I'm allergic to grass.

Truth be told, the last time I was tested, I tested postive for 79 our of 82 allergens and, of these various allergies, grass is possibly the worst one.  As a child, I was hospitalized on a few occassions after picnics and Physical Education and Camp Outs - when my lungs would sieze, my eyes would swell with yellow fluid and I would gasp for air.  I haven't thought of the allergy in quite a while as I don't come into direct contact with it quite as much as an adult - but having it blown into the air I was breathing while pushing myself through an already strenuous exercise...it not only explained my poor stamina and breathing instability, but it accounted for why my eyes were burning so terribly.

"Dammit, Heather...you just walked a 20 minute mile while damn near giving yourself an asthma/allergy attack!"

I'm tired and sadly, I don't have the happy rush I experienced last time, but I worked so much freaking harder for it today and I'm proud of myself for that.  I pushed through it - sacrificed laziness and comfort to take the faster route and the longer route and emotionally, that feels amazing.

Ironically, I still maintained an average of 3 mph - just like my last walk.  However, I covered just a *little* more distance - I reached 1.7 miles this time instead of 1.6.  It took me three minutes longer to do it, but ultimately burned 342 calories (26 more than last time).

The track almost made me IT'S bitch today, but I turned around and kicked it's ass anyways.

Booyah, track.  Boo.  Yah.