I thought I’d give y’all a preliminary update on my preparation for walking 60 miles this summer. Because I know everyone is just DYING to hear how I’m doing, like UNABLE TO SLEEP AT NIGHT wondering if I’m really doing this thing or if I’m still just mostly sitting on the couch eating oreos.
Well I am here to tell you that I am only eating oreos AFTER my workouts. So.
I am also here to tell you that I am sore AND it is extremely cold outside in February. (Apparently I am here to tell you a lot of extremely obvious things.)
Now, a normal person, at this point, would be focused on getting into a fitness groove, working on a fundraising strategy, and perhaps being professionally fitted for a good pair of sneakers.
I don’t think I have to tell you that I am not a normal person.
My fundraising strategy is pretty much, “If you tell the internet, they will donate.” And really, I wasn’t entirely wrong about that. At the moment I have over $3,500 in donations accrued, which makes me feel very warm and fuzzy inside. Lots of extraordinary and pretty people have come forth to contribute and I wish I could thank each and every one of you individually. Unfortunately, when someone I don’t know makes a donation, I obviously have no way to contact them and say thanks… so consider yourself thanked, if I haven’t been able to say so before this.
[By the way, special breast cancer t-shirts are coming to my store… uhhh… soonish. I promise. Um, special shirts for which the profits will be donated, that is. The shirts won’t give you breast cancer. Probably. You may need to sign a liability waiver when you buy.]
I actually AM getting into my fitness groove, but I’ll get to that in a minute.
MORE IMPORTANTLY, I’ve been able to indulge in my most favorite hobby: bargain hunting. And I’m ALLOWED, because it turns out that for this walk? You need a lot of STUFF. Gear for training. Gear for the actual walking. Gear for the camping. So far I’ve bought and returned one pair of sneakers, bought and kept one pair of fancy running sandals which I suspect I’ll love but I can’t really test out in the current sub-freezing temps, ordered another pair of sneakers, skulked around the camping section of Target three times, and called up my walk buddy to report that I’d found deluxe dual-bottle lumbar packs on clearance online! (Yes. I was excited about dual-bottle lumbar packs. Those suckers are expensive.)
So. Goodies are winging their way to me in the mail. I snagged a really nice sleeping bag for 75% off, and some of those gigantic ziplocs that allow you to compress all your gear (and, more importantly, keep it dry). I have official WALK SOCKS. Yes. They have CoolMax, which means that I still sweat like a pig, but my feet remain cool and dry. Actually my feet are still warm and sweaty, but my expensive socks (purchased on clearance) insist that they are perfectly moisture-free and smell like flowers. Which is nice of them. I have new sports bras and a pink 3-Day bandana (shut up, they were giving them away at this meeting I went to) and the shopping part has been lovely.
The training part… well, an interesting thing happened. I went to one of these coach-run introductory meetings where they talk about what to expect and how to prepare and how to raise money and please don’t freak out about having to set up your tent because the crew will help you. Prior to the meeting, I’d been being extremely half-assed about sticking to a workout plan, both because I was still dealing with my mutant boob (still afflicted! stay tuned for further adventures!) and I was sort of doing the “tomorrow is another day” mantra as justification for not doing much.
Then I went to this meeting, and there were a lot of women there who were older than me, or sick, or older than me AND sick, who have walked before. And are walking again. And it suddenly occurred to me how much of a lazy pampered IDIOT I would be if I couldn’t keep up with those women.
Fear of embarrassment, it turns out, is a pretty good motivator.
Over the last week, I’ve exercised 5 out of 7 days. I’ve walked 18 miles and been traumatized by the hairless yoga people. My face is chapped and my fingers are permanently cold. No matter how often I stretch, my calves scream for mercy every time I get up from a sitting position.
I feel great. Sore and cranky and tired and on my way.