I’ve been running. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I’m training for a half-marathon. I’m not so much cycling these days.
I’m outed. Half-marathon. There, do I sound smug yet?
Smug half marathon smugsmug smuggity running smuggypants!
I’m finding the break from thinking I should be cycling – the break from the GUILT of not cycling – quite freeing. Yes, I’m still on a team, and yes I’m technically a co-Captain on said team. But I’m not exactly on the podium side of the equation, if you know what I’m saying.
See, that 12 mile RT commute just doesn’t count. You might think it does. But it only makes me a bike commuter, which is entirely different than the idea that I am a “cyclist”. I’ll spare you further homespun definitions of what is/is not cycling/bike commuter/biker because that is a ridiculous discussion, but you should just trust me.
But for those of you unawares, cycling as a means of achieving fitness and engaging in competitive athletics is very time consuming. Costs of the respective sports aside (I’m not convinced that one is cheaper than the other when you factor in the cost of replacing gear, race fees, etc.), let’s consider the issue of time.
Oh that little thing. Time. TIME. TIIIIMMMMMMMME. Yep, that thing that I don’t have a lot of these days. That thing that when I have by myself I consider it to be a luxury. That thing that is largely consumed by an active 17-month old sprite with opinions and ideas, what the hell.
So: Time. Cycling requires dressing in a lot of gear. A whole lot more gear in the winter. On your average not-too-chilly spring day, at best, it will take 20 minutes to get the bike/water bottles/food ready, 20 minutes to find your clothes and put them on. Add 10 minutes for removing all your clothes in order to pee one final time before you leave the house. 30 minutes of prep for a ride that lasts 2 hours. If you’re riding with the team, add a half hour. Total time elapsed: 3 hours. HOURS.
Running: Find phone (it’s on the table), add earphones and queue up podcast if you’re that kind of runner. Rummage around for acceptable sports bra. Put on shorts and shirt. Tie shoes. Tell the dog you’re sorry you’re not taking him running because he is too old. Total time elapsed: 10 minutes. Run for 45 minutes. Total time elapsed: 55 minutes. Results: Same or better level of fitness than your 3 hour cycling event.
Bottom line: all else being equal (and it’s not, I’ll admit that’s true), when weighed against the time factor, at a fitness level, running wins the battle of the mom-to-a-toddler.
So basically I’m subjecting myself to public scrutiny with this admission of RUNNING (see also: don’t know what the hell I’m doing). Combined with the blood sacrifice to the the half-marathon gods, this should work out well I think.