Three minutes. One hundred eighty seconds. One minute in-between each of six repetitions.
At this point, it’s a battle of the legs against the lungs. Who’s gonna poop out first? What I have to try to remember is not to try to keep up with the rest of the class. Not only are they younger, but they have all been involved in other exercise, so they can move faster than I can. One lovely lady stays back with me from time to time to converse — and I quickly learn distraction is my best friend.
I’m surprised that I can do this. It’s hard, I won’t lie. My legs are complaining like a whiny child and my breathing is crazy. I stay aware of both to ensure I’m not overdoing anything. Even though it’s only been four weeks, I’m liking the knowledge that I’m working towards this and I’m pretty sure if I stick with it I’ll be back to calling myself a runner in no time. I do not want to risk having to start over yet again by being silly here.
By the end of the week I can tell that my body has finally recognized that we’re exercising on a regular basis going forward. This is not a phase I’m going through or something I’m going to chicken out on. I know the first weeks are where the really hard work happens and by next week things will feel a bit easier because this base is being built now.
We’re still climbing, but each week the mountain is a little less steep.