So last month I decided to try running, right? Saw this Andy Bradley Runner Training thing for beginners and thought, “Heck, maybe that’ll finally get my butt moving.” Figured I might as well document the whole messy thing.
The Grand Plan (Sort Of)
Andy’s tips said beginners gotta start strong but simple. Alright. My “plan” went something like this:
- Step 1: Dig out my ancient sneakers from the closet. Looked kinda sad, but they weren’t falling apart. Good enough.
- Step 2: Pick a “track.” Chose the pavement loop around my boring suburban block because driving anywhere felt like too much effort.
- Step 3: Set a wild goal. Andy preached consistency over distance for starters. Did I listen? Nope. I absolutely, stubbornly aimed to jog the whole loop non-stop on Day One.
Felt pumped walking out the door. “Starting strong, baby!” I told the cat.
Reality Hits Like a Brick
Crossed my driveway, felt fine. Got to the end of my street… lungs already felt like burning trash bags. That first tiny incline? Murder. Pure murder. Legs turned to concrete before I’d even gone half a block. Kept gasping, “Just a little further,” like some crazy person.
Made it maybe one third of the way? Total distance? Probably less than a sad football field. Had to stop, hands on knees, wheezing like a broken accordion. Chest heaved, sweat poured. That “strong start”? More like a spectacular crash landing. Looked back at my house sitting there, smug and way too close. Felt downright pathetic.
Where Andy’s Tips Actually Worked (Kinda)
Andy kept banging on about listening to your body and walking when needed. Felt like admitting defeat, but hey, he wasn’t wrong about that part.
- Walk/Jog Hell: The rest of that “run”? Brutal walk-jog torture. Jog 10 shaky steps, feel like death, walk 50 steps, gasp for air. Rinse. Repeat. Mortifying.
- The Shoes Were a Lie: My feet started protesting hard around the corner. Felt every single pebble. Andy mentioned good shoes… yeah, shoulda probably taken that one seriously.
- Just Show Up: This, though? This tip stuck. The next day sucked too. My muscles screamed obscenities. But dragging my miserable self out the door again, even just to walk-jog-crawl? That felt like the only “strong start” I actually managed.
The Big Realization
Andy kept yelling “progress, not perfection.” After a week of barely moving and feeling lousy, finally got what he meant. That whole “start strong” idea? It’s garbage if it means blowing yourself up trying to be an instant hero. It’s absolute nonsense.
Truth is, starting strong just means showing up consistently, even when it’s slow and ugly as sin. Even when you fail the first loop spectacularly. My progress? It’s miniscule. Measly. Pathetic maybe. Walk less, jog a little more? Tiny victory. Feet hurt less after replacing those godforsaken old sneakers? Hallelujah.
Still feel clumsy. Still question life choices halfway through. Still can’t run the whole block without stopping. Probably won’t for weeks. But showing up? Trying again? That’s the actual “strong start.” The rest is just messy noise. So yeah. Still at it, kinda. Ask me next month how badly the next failure goes.
