This week, I'm attempting the FLUX CAPACITOR Challenge — exercising at a different time than usual (see Contest Rules in the sidebar on the right for more details ... then suggest a challenge for our AUDIENCE CHOICE Challenge).
An aside: I'm a bit shocked by how many people don't know what a Flux Capacitor is. Hello! It's the device that makes time travel possible! I'm not judging, but I am saying I feel sorry for you if Back to the Future wasn't a formative part of your childhood. Deloreans! Orange Vests! 88 Miles Per Hour!
Anyway ... I'm at my most creative at night, and I've never considered myself a morning person or an athlete. But a job change forced me to switch from a sunrise shift to more reasonable work hours. Surprisingly, I began to fill my mornings with exercise. Even more surprisingly, I enjoyed it.
Now, as the sun rises later and later, it's hard to fit in running, icing my knee, and Starbucks (I'm a bit of an addict, and the baristas at Starbucks in Crestline totally make my day). Seems like the perfect time to try running in the afternoon.
Some things I already love about running at the end of the day: the feeling of running shoes after a day in heels (absolutely amazing), the smell of Davenport's Pizza Palace after a hard run, and the energy I have all night so I avoid collapsing in front of the TV.
And things I miss about the morning: Waking up with the neighborhood, smelling the lavender in front of The Cook Store (what is it with me and scents?), and the energy to make it through a work day in a cubicle.
I feel stronger and run farther in the afternoon, but I'm less concerned with what people think of me in the morning.
No matter your feelings (or appalling lack of knowledge) about Flux Capacitors, this challenge has given me the guts to change my routine and get out on the trail even when I'm uncomfortable and intimidated. Will I switch mornings for afternoons? Jury's still out. But there's one thing I really love, and that's having the courage to change things up.
Showing posts with label jemison park. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jemison park. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
A Tale of Two Cities: It Was the Best of Trails, It Was the Worst of Trails
I usually run on Jemison Trail in Mountain Brook. I know I should be running in Highland Park, where I live, since driving to and from the trail takes time (20 minutes, roundtrip) and gas. Believe me, I feel guilty. But I'm not changing anytime soon.
My own neighborhood is full of hazards: Huge cracks in the sidewalks as tall as a stray cat (which, by the way, are everywhere). Homeless people who yell at me in the morning (in their defense, they've never been especially rude and they're not asking for money, but I still don't like being yelled to at sunrise). Plus, there's a complicated parks system that I've never been able to decode. One park is known for the men who sit outside waiting to be propositioned for gay sex. Another is dedicated to dogs and their owners. (Honestly, this frightens me more than the first one, as I'm never quite sure how to behave around dogs.) As far as I know, the other parks don't have distinctions, but I can't really be sure ... what if I unknowingly ran through Clown College Park? Or, worse, Hipster Park (littered with PBR cans and cigarette butts ... oh, wait, that's the whole neighborhood).
Please don't misunderstand. I do love my neighborhood. But the things I like are the same reasons I feel self-conscious running here. I know lots of my neighbors, which is awesome when you want to borrow a cup of sugar (or use someone's internet, which is way more likely), but kind of embarrassing when you're red-faced and just tripped over a sidewalk crack. Rojo is great when you're craving a black bean burger, but running by the patio clad in Nike Tempo shorts and an old M*A*S*H t-shirt doesn't sound as delicious.
So far, I've chosen the easy comfort of Mountain Brook, with its clock towers, illusion of safety, and friendly runners who rarely skip a cheerful "good morning," even in the middle of a run. I'll admit, I get yelled at by the Brookies, too, but I find cries of "Hey, Starbucks Girl!" (from former customers) strangely comforting.
In the end, I do plan to start running in my own neighborhood, and I'm sure I'll find things to love about sticking close to home. But, for a couple weeks anyway, I'm happy to cling to my false security, as long as it keeps me running.
My own neighborhood is full of hazards: Huge cracks in the sidewalks as tall as a stray cat (which, by the way, are everywhere). Homeless people who yell at me in the morning (in their defense, they've never been especially rude and they're not asking for money, but I still don't like being yelled to at sunrise). Plus, there's a complicated parks system that I've never been able to decode. One park is known for the men who sit outside waiting to be propositioned for gay sex. Another is dedicated to dogs and their owners. (Honestly, this frightens me more than the first one, as I'm never quite sure how to behave around dogs.) As far as I know, the other parks don't have distinctions, but I can't really be sure ... what if I unknowingly ran through Clown College Park? Or, worse, Hipster Park (littered with PBR cans and cigarette butts ... oh, wait, that's the whole neighborhood).
Please don't misunderstand. I do love my neighborhood. But the things I like are the same reasons I feel self-conscious running here. I know lots of my neighbors, which is awesome when you want to borrow a cup of sugar (or use someone's internet, which is way more likely), but kind of embarrassing when you're red-faced and just tripped over a sidewalk crack. Rojo is great when you're craving a black bean burger, but running by the patio clad in Nike Tempo shorts and an old M*A*S*H t-shirt doesn't sound as delicious.
So far, I've chosen the easy comfort of Mountain Brook, with its clock towers, illusion of safety, and friendly runners who rarely skip a cheerful "good morning," even in the middle of a run. I'll admit, I get yelled at by the Brookies, too, but I find cries of "Hey, Starbucks Girl!" (from former customers) strangely comforting.
In the end, I do plan to start running in my own neighborhood, and I'm sure I'll find things to love about sticking close to home. But, for a couple weeks anyway, I'm happy to cling to my false security, as long as it keeps me running.
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