Elite.

Wait. Let me say it again.

Elite.

Crap, but I've been struggling. These last few weeks have been grim for me. I march myself off to the gym because I know it's something I should do, something I need to do, but oh, man it's not something I want to do right now.

I've been really killing myself to try to get my running speed up and despite all my efforts I still can't break a nine minute mile, let alone my goal of an eight minute mile. Around me on the treadmills I see people ripping off seven minute miles as a warm up. As a warm-up.

That soft thud thud thud sound you hear is me hitting my head on the mousepad.

In the past I've been able to take comfort in other things. When running wasn't working I could get satisfaction from strength training, but I've had to dial that back a lot in order for my shoulder to heal.

Today was especially tough because it was time for my six month assessment, where my trainer weighs, measures me with a tape, pinches me in embarrassing places with a calliper to get a body fat reading and then puts me on the treadmill for a fitness test.

Big whoop de doo. I knew there were only going to be miniscule changes because I was so close to goal last May, and I was right. Four inches total lost from arms, legs and torso. Four pounds of weight, 1.1% body fat. In six months. I'm now below 16% body fat and under strict orders not to let it go any lower�I'm in the low end of healthy for a woman.

(Female athletes routinely take their body fat lower than this, to the 14% range, but most athletes tend to be young enough to be my children and my trainer feels that at my august age I need to keep some physical reserves.)

Measuring done, all that was left the treadmill fitness test. Okay, fine.

My trainer set it to the highest level and I grumpily did my five minute walk. When it was done, the number 48 flashed up and just before I turned to my trainer to ask what it meant, the treadmill screen flashed the word "Elite".

Wait, let me say that again.

ELITE.

Oh, I could feign nonchalance about this, pretend that it doesn't really matter to me, but even you know what? That would be a lie.

Um, did I mention that the treadmill fitness test said I have attained an elite level of fitness?

Just checking.

Which leads us to the obvious question. If I am so freakin' fit, why oh why am I having such a very hard time attaining speeds that come naturally to most of the people at my gym? I posed this very same question to my trainer.

My trainer is a wonderfully diplomatic person. She did not say to me, "Marn, you aren't running at a decent speed because you are so stupidly unco-ordinated that you are unable to put one foot in front of the other properly."

No, what she said is, "You don't have good running technique." This is, of course, a polite way of saying "you are so stupidly unco-ordinated that you are unable to put one foot in front of the other properly". So as I flail around struggling to lengthen my stride and hold my body in proper running posture, I force my heart and lungs to work far harder than they would if I could just put it together.

Yep, I have attained an elite level of fitness because I am too stupid to properly do something that comes naturally to almost everyone else.

Feel free to point and snicker.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 1292.92 miles. Done. Now I can log me some of them there Road Runners, eh?

Goal for 2005: 1,250 miles - 2000 kilometers