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Note to Self

Dearest Danette,

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!?!!!??!

It’s been months since your last walk/jog (aka WOG).  You really have no excuse.  None.  You turned 50 continued working out for a short time and then stopped.  You skipped working out nearly all of ‘cold’ season.  For no reason that is legitimate.  So today you decided it was time to pick it back up again.

In the past you’ve never needed someone to work out with, an online buddy or a workout journal to be consistent. In fact you prefer to go it alone.  But obviously something has changed.  So I’m writing you this note for all to see (if they so desire), as a committment to continue – cigaba – swagaliga.  You are going to workout a minimum of 4 times/week, but preferably 5 or 6.  Keeping your word is pretty important to you, so with this in writing, there’s no turning back.

After much contemplation (days & days & days, ok – weeks) you decided that today was the day to start.  Again I ask, WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!?!? It was 105 degrees out there.  But if you were going to start anytime in the next 2 or 3 months, those temps (not to mention humidity) will only get worse.

So out you went.  And remember you have witnesses to your craziness.  Neal & Tim saw you.  But they were just as crazy, because they were playing tennis in the heat.  And I think the heat was doing something to the message center in their brains because they continued to play for quite awhile after you finished.  And you wogged for at least 45 minutes.  That’s usually your average.  Not sure of the distance since your running app stopped working – it was too hot in your pocket.

And after you finished, you did your push-ups. (Girl  style) And you will continue to do them. No matter that a few short months ago you could do 3 sets of 30.  The 3 sets of 15 today was better than nothing.  Much better.  Keep it up!

Here are the tennis players.


Now lest you get discouraged or tempted to quit, you took a few pictures to remind yourself that it’s really not that bad…

Here’s your view – at least the downhill side.  Quite lovely.  Who wouldn’t want to jog here?  (What one can’t ‘see’ is each one of those 105 degrees). But we don’t need to dwell on that – not with the beautiful Niger River in the background.


The uphill side is a bit more challenging, but keep in mind the downhill side is right around the corner. The picture just doesn’t do justice to the upward slope.  But remember, this is where you do the walking part of your Wog.  So it’s all good.


And remember the lovely smells you smelled?  You had great opportunity to suck in those smells.  Panting some might call it.  So you got nostrils full of flowery smells.  Keep in mind that most places you go don’t smell nearly as wonderful.  And some places there’s nothing wonderful at all about the smell.  And let’s talk about the butterflies. Well, you only saw one today, but I’m sure there are more.  He was lovely too. 
And you even had a laugh, in spite of your panting.  Remember?  You allow yourself a drink after every 2 laps.  You were greatly anticipating that water as you came around the bend –on account of your throat sticking shut.  But when you reached the place you stashed your bottle, IT WAS GONE!!  You started to panic just a little as you tried to unstick your throat.  Then you looked at the tennis players, and thought to yourself “I’ll bet Tim took your water as a practical joke”.  Yep, your mind went there.  And you didn’t find the humor in it.  But just as you started to accuse him, you spotted the missing bottle.  Right where you left it – in the drainage ditch.


But in your defense, you thought you put it here, just a few feet away.   
Looks pretty similar, right?  AND it was 105 degrees. The synapses in your brain may have been misfiring. Give yourself a break.

Also keep in mind how much you like music pumping into your head.  This is the perfect opportunity for that – without interruption.  And – some of your best prayer times are while on the ‘track’.

So dear self, this is a note to you.  Just in case you forget or think this all a dream.  It wasn’t.  It was real.  You are real, and you will run.  Or Wog. No matter how you feel in the morning.

I’m a Wogger.

Yep.  I’ve decided.  I used to call myself a ‘Slogger’, which was my word for the way I run.  Not run really.  It’s a slow jog. A very slog jog.  More like a shuffle really.  And ‘slog’ just feels like what it probably looks like.  In fact the average person that happens to see me as I trudge along would probably think something like – ‘well isn’t she motivated – just slogging along like that’.

But in all honesty, I don’t slog anymore.  I Wog.  My new word for what I do.  I Walk/Jog.

I went wogging on Wednesday.  For the first time in exactly 14 weeks.  Now for those who know me, you know that that is a VERY long time for me to go without intentionally exercising.  But it happened.  I’m not happy about it, but it’s a reality.  So just move on, right?  But the consequences? Those come with regret.

Another one of my realities (not whining here, just facing the facts)  is that I need to exercise regularly to simply maintain my weight.  Losing weight takes more drastic measures then a 3 mile wog 5 or 6 times/week.  So combining my exercise hiatus with eating being in the US,  we’re looking at 15 pounds. And believe me, they can be clearly seen.  Add that to the fact that I should have actually been losing 15 pounds,  and you get – well, you can do the math.

So, that’s where I am right now.  Thus, the wogging.  And why do I wog?  I think it’s because I can’t or won’t jog for long distances.  Especially uphill.  I walk up hills.  I’d rather do burpees than jog UPhill.

And believe me this is much steeper than it looks!

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Despite the heat in Niger I have a pretty nice place to wog.  It also happens to be where my mom and dad in-law live.  Here’s my ‘track’.

This is the top of my ‘track’.  It’s kind of like a teardrop.  I walk up the hill on the right, to where I’m standing taking this picture, then I begin my ‘slog’ down the hill on the left.

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From the tip of the teardrop and around, it’s ¼ mile.

I knew I was out of shape, but I had no idea how bad it really was.  I started off at a walk, to warm up don’t ya know.  I walked up that hill and Oh. My. GOSH! I began to wonder if that’s what it felt like to sprint a marathon.    Now the fact that it was 130 degrees (ok, so it was only 97) might have had something to do with it, but man were my muscles screaming!  It was quite pathetic really.  When I get to the downhill side of the teardrop I jog.  When I picked up my pace, I kept turning around, wondering what was back there.  Until I sadly realized it was just me.  The extra 15 pounds of me.  Ugh!!

My goal was to wog between 30 and 45 minutes for starters.  After I felt I had been going for a good long while, getting pretty close to my goal, I allowed a quick glance at the time.  Lord have mercy it had only been 12 minutes.  TWELVE MISERABLE MINUTES!  Why is it when I allow myself 15 minutes to look at Facebook, then I guesstimate my time, 30 minutes have actually passed?

So I wogged on.  And on.  I was trying to keep track of my laps, but I think I lost track.  I walked for about ⅓ of each lap, then jogged the rest.  When I finished what was either my 11th (2 ¾ mile) or 12th (3 mile) lap, I looked again at the time.  42 minutes.  That meant I had to go one more lap.  To make the 45 minute goal.  Which I exceeded. =)  And whereafter I felt like I had completed an Iron Man competition.  And I looked like it too.  Ask anyone who saw me. I was redder than my friend Patty’s very red and very beautiful homegrown tomatoes.  Yep.  I actually let people see me looking like that.  I was even going to take a picture and show it here, but I forgot.

Instead, I’ll include this one of the last time I ran 14 weeks ago.  I remember my last run because we were in Georgia, and I took a picture because Tobi ran with me.  That doesn’t happen very often.

This right here is a scary photo!

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So, in spite of the heat, and in spite of my screaming muscles and my red face, I will continue to wog along.  And go from there.