Renovating Kaeti

If you’re new to my blog, welcome! You can read more about me here or in my first post “Does This Blog Make Me Look Fat?“

It’s amazing how running inside spoils your legs. I ran outside on Saturday and Sunday this weekend, and I am definitely feeling it today.

Despite my minor soreness, though, it was great to get back to the lake. Running outside is so much more rewarding than putting in 40 minutes on the treadmill. In Minnesota, the runners who stay outside for the winter are part of a special, secret club (well, not really secret, because we’re the ones that always garner a lot of scornful comments like “Are those people crazy or something??”). We’re the proud few who trudge around the lake in ice, snow, sleet and 40-below wind chills (my eyes actually froze shut the other week). There are a lot of understanding smiles and knowing nods exchanged when crossing paths with other winter runners. It’s all very . . . heartwarming.

At least, it usually is. During my running clinic on Saturday, we were making our way around the lake and came up to a man running so slow that he was barely picking his feet off the ground. I’m no speed-demon myself, and we were clocking somewhere around a 12-minute-mile pace, so you can imagine just how slow he was going. Now all of this is fine and good, and I’m the first one to proselytize about the importance of doing everything at your individual level. So we passed him, gave him a friendly nod (which was not returned) and kept trudging along.

Then, with no warning, he comes barreling between my running partner and I, sending us scattering. And despite almost knocking us to the ground, he offers no acknowledgement whatsoever. Once he is about 10 meters ahead of us on the path, he resumes his snail’s pace forcing us to pass him again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Eventually, my friend looked over to me and said, “You know, he just doesn’t want to get passed by a couple of girls!” She was dead on. It’s like we were offending his prescribed world order: one where the girls finish last, and certainly don’t pass him — no matter how painfully slow he may be running. I believe this is what Vanilla at Half-Fast refers to as “getting chicked.” All in all, it made for an amusing (though somewhat awkward) run.

Anyway, this display of ego got me to thinking about how preconceived notions can hinder us in our many life pursuits. I talked about this idea a bit in this post — how definitions we carry around about ourselves can be awfully outdated and inaccurate (for example, thinking “I could never be an athlete,” when, in fact, you most definitely can be one). (A quick aside: There’s a great story coming up in our May issue about this exact topic.)

I think it was my preconceived notions about the fitness world and Those Who Are Fit that made me so reticent to the idea of exercise. I mean, how could there possibly be a place for my birthin’ hips in a sea of hard bodies rocking the spandex lifestyle? (Yes, apparently I based my preconceived notions on Bally commericals and my perennial favorite, Jane Fonda’s Complete Workout video.)

Right now the current preconceived notion I am fighting against is: There is no way on God’s green earth that I could ever — EVER — do a triathlon. But encouragement to sign up for my first sprint-distance tri is coming from all arenas of my life (and I mean all — even my financial planner is a triathlete). It’s got me thinking and weighing my options. And then dismissing the idea outright because it’s completely ridiculous, only to find it nagging at me again a few days later. But then I think that maybe I should focus on running this year. On the other hand, I’ve always been a multitasker, and this would give my training some much-needed variety. And round and round the indecision goes.

Any opinions or advice would be ever so appreciated!