Here goes nothing…

I was in Minnesota a few weeks ago to see my friends Joel and Melissa get married (mazel tov!).  We went to high school together–Joel and Melissa are high school sweet hearts of 10 years–and so the wedding was like some kind of awesome high school reunion curated by dear friends.  While I was in town, a few of the other wedding guests, my buddies Ryan and Charles, invited me to “go running around the lakes” with them.

For any New Yorkers reading this, The Lakes are a chain of beautiful tree-lined lakes circumferenced by public parkland and nestled in a mostly residential neighborhoods of Minneapolis. Lake Calhoun is a mile or so from where Joel, Ryan, Charles, and I all grew up. Running around a lake is roughly equivalent to a lap around Brooklyn’s Prospect Park, which, by the way, is something I haven’t done in a very long time.  Lake Calhoun is about three miles around–not that far at all, but a fair distance if you’re not in shape (which I am not).

Anyway, I agreed to go running with Charles and Ryan, two guys who (to the best of my knowledge) didn’t stop exercising after college like I did.  And while I might not look out shape (sure, I walk and bike all over New York) I’m nowhere close to being as fit as these guys.  I don’t go out of my way to exercise these days and while I guess I feel a little guilty about that, that’s not enough to convince me to run.  But my friends certainly didn’t try to convince me to run, they just invited me to join them.  I didn’t even feel like I had to keep my promise. I could have easily backed out. I certainly had a few reasonable excuses. For one, I only packed dress shoes, sandals, and my Chucks… Did I mention I’m out of shape?

I decided I’d go if for no other reason that to kick my own ass and maybe use the opportunity to start a new routine back in New York.  So I laced my Chucks (weren’t they originally basketball shoes? how bad could it be?), threw on a pair of swim trunks (I didn’t pack any shorts?) and waited on the front step of my parents’ house for my friends to pick me up.

I miss Minneapolis, I miss The Lakes, but it turns out I don’t particularly miss running.  I used to play soccer and I even cross country skied in high school—certainly the peak of my physical ability even though I was somewhat mediocre at both sports.  Though I’m out of shape now, at least I’m used to the idea of running.  But both then and now, I’ve always had serious difficulty with the idea of running for its own sake.

I don’t know if I’ve ever truly felt a “runner’s high.” I know it has something to do with endorphins, which I’m fairly sure don’t kick in during the first few yards.  But I will say those first few yards felt great!

“I’m doing this, yeah!” I thought, keeping pace with my buddies.

“Let us know how you’re feeling by the time we reach the boat house,” Ryan offered. “We don’t have to do Lake of the Isles, too, if you don’t want. We can just do Calhoun.”

“*Huff* ‘K.”  I sprinted to make up the few feet I already lagged behind them.

By the time we made it to the restaurant at Lake Calhoun’s boat house (which I’m a little disappointed to have just discovered is a national chain)—the half way point around Calhoun—my friends didn’t have to ask.

“You’re looking great!” Ryan encouraged as I lapped, red faced, at the drinking fountain, my body somehow gasping for air and water at the same time.

“How about you take the lead?” Charles offered, “Or we can leapfrog? That way we’ll all keep the same pace.”

My friends wouldn’t kick my ass (though they easily could), but they helped me kick my own.  I’m glad they invited me, and I’m really glad I went.

–

I often feel the same way about running and writing. (And this may be doubly true of writing for it’s own sake, when it’s my own.)  So when Adrianne announced The Yo La Tengo Late Summer Blog Challenge, I felt the same mixture of looking in the mirror and seeing that I’ve “let myself go” and also hope that I could use this as a chance to whip myself into shape. I know doing this thing is good for me, that I am out of practice, and that the only way to get in the kind of shape I want to be is through discipline, exercise, repetition… But damn if I don’t feel red-faced and winded right now.  (Oh, it’s already September 1st already? It’s still before midnight! Also I’m reserving the right to E-D-I-T after the time-stamp.)

Like exercising, tonight it’s the shame of being left in the dust that compels me to produce.  But this will change, right?