There I was, jogging my way through a modest two miles when I felt a twinge in my quad. Little did I know I’d pulled it, and my attempts at doing some planks only made matters worse. For weeks, I was in a panic, terrified my leg would never heal, and I’d be relegated to the couch for eternity. I had to run. I needed to run. The thought of losing the progress I’d made, including shedding a good chunk of weight, was unbearable.
If you’d told me three months earlier that I’d feel this way, I would have chuckled. Running was for those fitness-obsessed individuals who loved panting like they were auditioning for a horror movie. It was sticky, sweaty, and just plain gross. High school kids ran. College students ran. People with those elusive “perfect bodies” ran. But I was not one of them.
That all changed when Prozac led me down the path of weight gain. Once we figured out the culprit (not my thyroid, not another med), I found myself with a lot of extra weight and no viable way to shed it other than through diet. I craved some form of exercise, and I had heard whispers about this Couch to 5K program.
Couch to 5K is designed for those who can barely muster a walk, let alone a run. It’s a friendly approach to interval training: Week one involved walking for a minute and a half, then jogging for a minute, and repeating. It sounded doable, so I decided to give it a shot. I found a cheerful app to guide me through my runs, reassuring me that I’d be “jogging” not “running,” and that I wouldn’t be gasping for breath. Because let’s be honest, I really dislike that.
At first, I jogged at a glacial pace, which I didn’t fully grasp until I ditched the walking segments. My trusty double stroller, which was more of a behemoth than a jogger, helped wrangle my three kids under seven. My eldest rode his bike alongside us, and it felt like a parade of the slowest kind. Everyone passed me—granny with the walker, chipper college girls—while I just smiled and nodded at the other slowpokes. My younger two kept clamoring to escape the stroller, and my oldest was forever whining about fatigue. We barely finished a mile!
But I persevered, slowly upping my game. I invested in some running gear and better shoes, which cured my calf pain. Before long, I was running five minutes at a stretch. My German Shepherd, Max, loved joining me on these excursions; he would go bananas every time I donned my running clothes. My kids, once my running companions, struggled to keep up, which meant I had to wait until my husband got home to run in the dark. He even bought me a bracelet that dispensed mace for my safety, and Max, my intimidating companion, was always by my side.
I was terrified when I started running for 25 minutes straight. I couldn’t fathom doing it, yet I did. Then I pushed myself to 28 minutes. Finally, I ditched the program a week early; I wanted to focus on speed instead. Instead of running for 30 minutes, I switched to distance: two miles. When I broke the 14 minutes per mile mark, it felt like I’d won a marathon. The last time I ran, I clocked in at 13:23 minutes per mile. Sure, it’s still slow, but it’s a massive improvement from the 15-16 minute miles I had just a few weeks prior. It’s infinitely better than not running at all.
I had become addicted. I scoured running gear online and daydreamed about new track jackets, with my next pair of shoes already picked out. When I injured my leg, it was the first time in three months I’d gone more than two days without running. Talk about a void! Max was restless, and I missed the freedom running provided me from the daily grind of being a mom, writer, and teacher. Yes, it’s tough. Yes, I do breathe hard sometimes. But I’ve come to genuinely love it.
Two miles may not seem like a lot, but it was enough to help me shed about 15 to 20 pounds alongside my clean eating efforts. When I resume running, I’ll have to start from the beginning again—back to 25 minutes and a slower pace. I never thought I could run short distances without gasping for air, or jog for more than a few minutes without a break. Initially, I couldn’t, but sticking with it allowed me to train my body. I still envy those energetic college girls who make it look effortless. At 35 and carrying a bit of extra weight, running will never be easy for me, but it works. I did it, and I’m determined to keep going.
And if I can do it, you can too. I promise.
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Summary:
In this humorous yet candid journey, Jamie Thompson recounts her transition from a non-runner to a devoted jogger after experiencing weight gain from medication. With determination and the help of a Couch to 5K program, she gradually improved her running abilities, overcoming self-doubt and injury. Through persistence and a love for running, Jamie shares how she lost weight and discovered a newfound passion for fitness, encouraging others to embark on their own journeys.