Thursday, October 11, 2012

Bracing For Pain

A funny thing happens when a child is five.  You take them to the doctor for their five year well child check where they will need to receive several immunizations.  They freak out when you inform them minutes before the event, crying, carrying on how they don't want a shot, that it hurts.  You hold their hands to keep them away from the needle while the nurse holds their legs down to keep them from kicking her in the face.  The shot goes in, the child cries.  And then she stops.  Looks at you.  And says, "Huh.  That wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."  That was yesterday when I took Joy to the doctor.

Three times now I've experienced this.  With all three of my kids.  I distinctly recall taking all three of my kids in for the chicken pox vaccine and David went first.  He was crying bloody murder.  We were holding him down and he was fighting us.  The shot went in and the crying stopped.  "That doesn't even hurt," he says.  "Do I still get a slurpee?"

Life is often just like that.  We're a screaming, crying, hissy-fit throwing mess as we brace for the pain to hit.  And then it does.  Huh.  That wasn't so bad after all.

I admit that when I first decided to start training for a 5K, I wasn't sure if I'd make it past week five, let alone all the way to the end.  It looked really hard.  Run twenty minutes without stopping?  I'd be happy with five.  Run three miles?  It'd be nice if I could run one.  Yet, I laced up my shoes and went out the door three days a week anyway and just kept following the program.  Somewhere between week six and week nine, it became a whole lot easier.

The first time I made it to two miles, when I stopped running and started my walking cool down, my legs still felt like they were running.  It felt weird to walk again.  My body wanted to just keep on running.  I realized I could run even further if I had the time.

Last weekend I ran three miles.  At the end of my run, I wasn't out of breath.  Yes, I was breathing hard, but I was breathing, not gasping.  My legs weren't even at the end of their endurance.  I felt like I could have kept on running if I hadn't had to get home so Hubby could get to a meeting.

Next weekend is the big race day.  I'm not expecting to win by any means.  I'll just be happy with being able to finish while running the whole way, even at my very unsupersonic speed.

But after all this training, after wondering during the first month if I really could do this, all I can say is, "Huh.  That wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

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