I've got the KNACK for SPEED.

I've no need for speed yet, but I have found that I am actually quite good at speed training.

Two days nigh, my little brothers, aged ten and twelve, and I were playing frisbee in the back yard. After the third time we had to hop the fence to retrieve the frisbee from the wood behind our house, I suggested foot races. (Before you judge me too harshly, I gave them head starts.)

In the heat of the competition, I hit my stride. I loved running for a few minutes.

As soon as bragging rights or short-term goals were taken away, it felt like I was punishing myself again. Lesson learned. I need more manageable goals in order to push myself toward the ultimate goal.

Day two, I took the youngest brother down the street and across the way to the cranberry bog where it all began. We turned miles into a series of short races, half of which he didn't run. I still scoped out my target, ran to it, and returned to him.

Even without the immediate threat of "loss," I still outperformed with company and with speed than I did when I jogged alone. It's almost as though using my whole body -- arms slicing the air in front of me, obliques twisting with effort, strides wide -- tapped into a more primal feedback loop. Intellect went right out my flaring nostrils. I was at once a prehistoric woman, scooping up her child and running to safety from a saber-toothed tiger. I was a prokaryote, chasing down a weaker counterpart to envelope and consume it. I was then. I was now.

Conversely, jogging -- in place or through space -- already feels half-assed, so I can't bloody well push through the pain of a lackluster performance. I quit. I wheeze. I grumble.

Now, to be fair, I've no idea how to apply this principle to my loftier goal -- a marathon, just yet. I am reasonably sure there is no physical way for me to run so hard for 26.2 consecutive miles. I get the feeling I would die. Speed training is supposed to come AFTER achieving distance. Ack-basswards just fits for now.

10,000 daily step average is in the works, too. I'll let you know how it goes.

A Caitlyn in motion tends to stay in motion

until acted upon by an outside virus.
or a barrage of adult beverages.
or quality time with a cute guy.
or four consecutive days of less than two hours of sleep.

or anything even vaguely distracting.
blurf. sorry.

My average number of steps in a day is 9000. My number of steps taken in one mile is 2373. Sooo, yeah. I only have to pepper in -- wait, summer math.

26.2 * 2373 =  62172.6 steps in a mile, approximately.
62172.6 - 9000 = 53172.6 steps needed to add to my daily routine to walk a marathon-length.

... that's not so -- okay, that's pretty unbelievable. I may have even skewed my results a little because I knew I was wearing a pedometer. who has time to take that many steps? looks like I have some work to do.

Starting tomorrow, I am going to wake up early (I'm thinking 7 -- anything earlier on a day off is purest blasphemy) and see if I can't up my step-count. get back on track, yeahhh.

How many days is it again to create a habit?? 21?