Nebulous Mooch

As many of you know, I’m a big fan of apartment running. My apartment running days are far from over, but now I’ve added a little something extra to my exercise routine–sprinting. Sprinting is fun, wildly exciting, and very good for you. Here’s the deal.

We have two types of muscle fibers in our bodies. There are slow twitch muscles and fast twitch muscles. Fast twitch muscles can further be divided into two categories: fast and superfast.

The average person stops using their superfast muscles once they enter adulthood. You use your superfast muscles because you stop doing super fast exercise. Children run all over the place as fast as they can all the time. When was the last time you ran as fast as you could? When you were chased by a dog? If you’re not afraid of dogs, you probably haven’t run as fast as you could since your were twelve. That’s okay. You’re not alone.

The average person’s muscle breakdown is about 50% slow, 40% fast and 10% superfast. An average sprinter has this muscle percentage of 40% slow, 20% fast, and 40% superfast. The average person who does aerobic exercise has 55% slow, 40% fast and 5% superfast. That’s right aerobic exercise actually depletes the amount of superfast muscle you have.

Why should you care? I’ll tell you why. Superfast muscles cause your body to produce growth hormone (HGH). HGH stimulates cell production and cell regeneration. In other words, it helps keep you looking and feeling young.

The problem is the only way to develop your superfast muscles is to participate in superfast activities. Speed reading doesn’t count.

We’ve starting sprinting three days a week in a field near our house. If you decide to do this make sure you warm up well before you start. The first day we tried sprinting my husband ran two steps and pulled a muscle in his thigh. Luckily, he’s married to a massage therapist.

We do a little jogging before we start to warm up. Then we run as fast as we can for 30 to 60 seconds 3 to 4 times. You should take a 4 minute break in between every 30 to 60 second burst. By the end of it we’re exhausted, but I have to say that it’s great fun. Give it a try. You might like it.

“I think I’m getting fat,” my husband announced. He pulled up his t-shirt to expose his flat, white stomach,  pinched a bunch of skin and said, “See.”

My husband is very thin, so I’m not sure how to take this. “Are you making fun of me?” I ask.

“You’re paranoid,” he said. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just telling you that I’m getting fat. I need to start running again.”

When we got up the next morning, I suggested that we go for a run. I really want to run and haven’t been able to successfully make myself a runner yet. You can read my running chronicles here and here and here. I didn’t do any better at this whole running thing this morning either.

We went the hilly way. After running over the bridge near our flat, I’d already had just about enough of this whole running thing. “How long have we been running?” I asked my husband. I was so sure that we were halfway finished and it was time to turn around and head back home.

“Four minutes and thirty seconds,” he said as he bounced along.

I stopped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I looked down the street that was all down hill and kept thinking I’m going to have to run back up it. “I’m walking. Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

He jogged away. He kept getting farther and farther away until he was out of site.

I figured he’d be coming back soon so I sat on a bench and waited and waited. He didn’t come back. So I walked all the way down the hill to the roundabout. I didn’t see him anywhere down their either. So I went back to the bench and waited some more.

Then I started to get mad because he had the keys to the house and the cold wind was giving me an earache. “I can’t believe he just ran off and left me out here to freeze with no coat,” I thought. “He didn’t even tell  me which way he was going.” I figured the best thing to do was go back to our flat and wait for him on the front stairs.

After walking for a little while my anger started to turn into worry. “What if he gets hit by a car or has a heart attack? How will I know what’s going on? I can’t even get in the house.” This is how my brain works. Before I got too deeply into panic mode he came bounding up behind me and all was forgiven.

That’s the last time I’ll be running  outside in this cold. Apartment running will suit me just fine until the weather warms up.

Last week I wasn’t feeling well, so my husband went running in the morning without me. When he got home he said he ran so fast that he had to run further than we usually do to make the run last the full twenty minutes. He was so happy to tell me that.

Today just when I was about to give up—running is still very hard for me—I took off like a cheetah and ran very fast for five full minutes. “This is the normal speed I run,” he said, running after me. “You better slow down before you overdo it.”

I kept on running, leaping over puddles like a gazelle. I can run too. I can run fast. I didn’t pass out until we got home.

After much consideration, I’ve decided to take my apartment running to the next level–the great outdoors. This of course terrifies me because of the heat (though it is fall, temperatures are still hitting the 90′s in lovely Florida) and the dogs. Dogs chase anything that’s running. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to pull on a sports bra, lace up my running shoes and brave the great outdoors. Don’t worry I also put on a pair of shorts. I’m not interested in streaking.

When I told my husband that I was going to start running in the mornings, he was excited to come along. My husband runs outside on a regular basis already, so I knew running with him might be embarrassing for me.

By nine in the morning the heat is already oppressive. My husband bounds along smiling the whole way, while I feel like I’m going to pass out before we even get to the corner. At about four minutes out,I ‘m already asking how much time we have left. Sweat is stinging my eyes and my lungs are burning. He’s barely breaking a sweat and isn’t out of breath at all.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, ” I manage to say through desperate pants for air. I want to say, “Do I look alright to you?!”

When we get home he goes on and on about how great he feels. I just want to pass out. What makes running outside so much harder than apartment running? Is it the heat? I don’t know but I’ll keep trying. I ran a whole fifteen minutes without stopping on Monday. Today I ran for seventeen minutes. Don’t scoff. It was hard. Maybe I’ll be able to run for twenty minutes nonstop on Friday. Maybe I’ll die from heat stroke. Can you die from that?

I want to be healthy. I have a secret fantasy of running a marathon or being a triathelete. In my dreams, sweat drenched, I cross the finish line to be greeted by a crowd of cheering spectators. Sadly, I’m bad at running. I know what you’re thinking, how could anyone be bad at running? I recently learned that my running style is rather comical. I won’t describe it. If you ever meet my husband, he’ll be glad to act it out for you. After running for about twenty minutes, I have a headache and feel dizzy. Apparently, this also isn’t good.

Still, I know people who run and they always sound so impressive when they say, “I just went running.” or “After my run, I’ll….” Those people seem lean and athletic. They seem like healthy go getters. They seem like people who can endure to the end and get the job done. I want to be like them.

Recently, I’ve decided to start running again. I’ve modified my style to be more normal. My goal is to do it at least three times a week. The problem is that I don’t usually have time to run until about eight in evening. I would never consider running at night alone. So, I’ve come up with a plan. I run around my apartment. I don’t run around my apartment building. I run from room to room in our two bedroom apartment. I set a timer. Right now, I ‘m only running for fifteen minutes. I run from room to room. When I get bored with the running, I do a little dance. Then I run some more. It’s working out well. I keep my heart rate up. My stepson even went for a fifteen minute apartment run the other day. I could be starting a trend.

I’m worried about the carpet. By the time we move out, it might be worn down to stubble. There might be a trail the marks the path I run. It hasn’t happened yet. When it starts to wear down, I’ll move my running outside. For now the apartment run makes me happy. Happiness and health are two of the most important things.