Motivation is a mysterious phenomenon. After a pretty sedentary week (a little commuter cycling, no lifting), this morning I climbed out of bed, unfolded my exercise/meditation mat and slid inexplicably back into my routine: a few sun salutations and other pretend yoga poses, some stretching, 30 push-ups, a little zazen. And then, for some reason that still escapes me, I pulled on my favorite red hooded sweatshirt, laced up my running shoes and announced to My Lovely Wife that I was taking the dog for a run.

Some context: Taking the dog for a walk is MLW’s job, a task she dutifully performs nearly every weekday before she has her breakfast. The dog, Brigit, lives for this moment. She loves it more even than chewing on used Kleenex — and that’s saying something.

So, my announcement was met with some surprise from MLW and with some glee from Brigit, whose 10-year-old bones leapt off the couch and headed happily for the back door.

Some more context: I never do this. Thirty years ago, my body was allergic to sitting still. I can remember routinely bursting out of my St. Paul apartment and simply running down to Como Lake, maybe a half-mile away, circling it non-stop and dashing back home — feeling that if I didn’t do so, the energy vibrating throughout my frame might just cause me to spontaneously combust. I have no idea what that was about, but I’m no longer thus afflicted. I can happily sit still for hours at a time. It’s like someone switched off the antsy gene.

Still, I felt compelled this morning to go outside and run. I was already sweaty from my workout and I’d been wondering for some time whether outdoor jogging might be more appealing than the vertigo I experience every time I climb on the treadmill. Would running on the soccer field up the street be easier on my knees? Would I be able to sprint in a way that my treadmill-phobia prevents?

So I hitched up Brigit to her gentle leader and leash, and we set off . . . into the coldest Saturday morning since March.

By the time we made it to the end of the block, my calves were already cramping and I was sucking wind like nobody’s business, but I jogged gamely on, Brigit barely breaking into a trot. My knees were holding up quite well, I noticed, and my bright white running shoes were finally getting dirty. On the down side, it was beginning to snow.

At the soccer field, I paused to stretch my annoying calves and noticed that someone had deposited a soccer ball in the netting of the goal. It occurred to me that it might be more interesting to dribble the soccer ball up and down the field than to simply slog along with no particular goal in mind. Brigit, a big soccer ball fan, was cheered by this turn of events and did her best to impede whatever progress I might have been making toward the defenseless goal at the other end of the pitch. Despite her best efforts, the ball and I and she arrived together at the other goal, rounded it smartly and dashed back upfield, dodging imaginary incompetent midfielders and indifferent defensemen until, maybe 10 yards from the goal, I drove a shot just over the head of the imaginary 3-foot-tall goalkeeper and into the net.

A little more context: The soccer field upon which my dog and I were cavorting occupies a bit of green space on the campus of the Minneapolis Veterans Administration hospital. And it only just now dawned on me that, had I collapsed from a massive coronary, my status as a Vietnam Era veteran would’ve been pretty convenient — had anyone actually been watching me kicking a soccer ball around in the mud and snow, which I fervently hope was not the case.

I was pretty winded by this time, but Brigit and I made one last run up the field and back — emboldened perhaps by the knowledge that I was still vertical. Then, on the way home, I actually turned up the speed (so to speak) until I could feel my quads protesting, which persuaded me to give Brigit a break and walk the last block.

The whole experience (which I fear will show up on YouTube at some later date) made me wonder whether I need to learn how to run all over again. Nothing really felt comfortable; my gait seemed weirdly off-balance, my body seemed sort of misaligned. It was mildly exhilarating, I’ll admit — a kind of temporary insanity. But I’m OK now that I’m sitting down again.

I climbed on the treadmill last night and, after a five-minute walking warm-up, jogged a mile at a 4 mph pace. This would’ve been excruciatingly boring had it not been for the intriguing pain gripping both of my calves. Actually, it wasn’t so much a specific pain as it was an annoying cramp. It felt like the muscles back there all decided to hang out together in a little clump of blood and tissue.

This happens to me all the time when I jog (as I believe I have mentioned more than once on these pages) and contributes mightily to my distaste for this particular activity. It’s not like I didn’t warm up or stretch those muscles out or make sure I was properly hydrated — all reasons why the calf clump typically occurs, according to the experts.

Well, there is one other cause: A sudden increase in mileage. And I suppose you could say that my getting on the treadmill at all would constitute a sudden increase in mileage.

What is interesting is that this calf cramp stuff doesn’t usually happen when I’m running faster than a jog. Some experts say that too much pronation (foot roll-over) can cause calf cramps, and maybe I don’t pronate so much when I lengthen my stride. Who knows? I’m not looking down at my pronating feet while I run, because I have a hard enough time just staying vertical on the treadmill. (A couple of times last night, I found myself drifting off to the right and nearly ran right off the thing.)

So, I could start running at a brisker clip to prevent the calf cramp, but that would mean I’d have to run at a brisker clip. . . . This, of course, is a dilemma — or a paradox — because I’d love to keep my calves happier, but I’m not keen on running much faster than a jog — at least not on the evil treadmill.

I suppose I could try going for a run on the soccer field near home and see how well I pronate in that scenario. Any other ideas would be welcomed, obviously.

Of course I didn’t do any stretching to speak of last night at the gym (see previous post). I mean, I did sort of stretch my calves and hamstrings before I revved up the treadmill, but you’re supposed to do that after your muscles warm up a little. Anyway, because I’ve been off my walking routine for a few days, I thought I’d see how the knee responded to a little more ambitious ambulatory activity.

I don’t much like treadmills, to be perfectly frank. They give you lots of good information about speed and time and heart rate and calories burned, but they always seem to be more in control of my workout than I am. Plus, I’m constantly worried about striding off to one side and finding myself quite suddenly flung to the floor. (Is there such a thing as treadmill vertigo?)

Nonetheless, I cranked up the machine and did some walking at a moderate speed for about six or seven minutes before attempting a bit of jogging — which always serves to remind me how much I hate running. I read about folks who live for their daily run, people who just kind of lapse into a pleasant meditative state as they stride along their chosen route. I’ve never been one of those people.

I remember running cross country in junior high and the utter pain and exhaustion that accompanied every stride — lungs burning, legs aching, stomach churning. And though I’ve done a little bit of jogging in the years since then, it’s never been my favorite activity.
I think I managed to keep a 5 m.p.h. pace for five or six minutes last night before I felt a little light-headed and way too exhausted than I should have felt (hydration anyone?). So I dialed down the speed and got back into a walking gait. I did run for another couple of minutes toward the end of my 25 minutes on the machine, but it never quite felt comfortable.

This is a little disconcerting, because I know how my heart rate ratchets up in a healthy way when I run. And if my knee isn’t bothering me, it’s really something I should focus on in my workouts. (Also, because it’s difficult, I assume it’s good for me, right?)
Not necessarily, says Bess Marcus. The director of physical activity research at Brown University Medical School notes that there are a variety of activities the running-averse can turn to for aerobic exercise. In an EL story from Jan./Feb. 2005, she lists walking, cycling, swimming, wall climbing, stair stepping, elliptical training, rowing and even jumping rope as great alternatives to running.

It’s all part of a fitness philosophy that encourages people to do stuff they enjoy rather than stuff they figure they need to suffer through. That’s the only way you’ll sustain a workout regimen over the long term, she says.

It’s a good reminder. I’m all for enjoyment, so I’ll get back to my walking commute (the arctic cold wave is said to be ending today), and next time I’m at the gym I’ll get back on the bike or maybe even try that elliptical thing. Anything’s better than running.