When the body protests, gummy bears negotiate—and somehow the tortoise keeps running.
Bracing myself. That’s the mood this week. No more walk-run intervals, no more sneaky pauses—it’s officially a non-stop tortoise race. Couch to 5K says “three runs, 25 minutes each, continuous.” My body says “Ha! Cute.”
But here’s the thing: seven weeks ago I couldn’t even manage a few minutes without gasping like I’d just sprinted through a soap opera chase scene. So yes, it’s slow. Yes, it’s exhausting. And no, I’m nowhere near the 5K mark. But slow is still better than none, right? Progress is progress—even if it’s powered by stubbornness and questionable snack choices.
Run 1: Déjà Vu Disaster
The first run of the week felt like being catapulted back to Week 1. I made the rookie mistake of going one way instead of looping back, and the walk home was a horror show. Cutting out the beach means no more sand resistance (thank goodness), but the road I chose is mostly flat with a few sneaky inclines. Let’s just say those “gentle slopes” felt like Everest when my legs staged a protest.
Run 2: Enter the Candy Trick
Here’s where the breakthrough happened. I can’t eat within two hours of a run—otherwise my stomach stages Cirque du Somersault, and trust me, I’ve already crossed that bridge. Electrolytes? Too pricey.
So I did a quick check of runner forums, and the whispers said: “Try gummy bears.” Cheap, easy, already portioned, and they don’t melt against the heat of my body (and yes, there’s definitely some hot stuff going on there).
I popped a few 30 minutes before the run, turned back at the 20-minute mark so I wasn’t stranded too far in one direction, and—magic. No more staggering home. No collapse. Just a slow, steady finish powered by candy.
Verdict: gummy bears are officially promoted from snack to co-star.
Run 3: Candy Saves the Day
By the finale, things improved even more. With gummy bears in the cast, I managed the full 25 minutes and got home without collapsing in a heap. Victory tastes like cherry-flavored gelatin.
Looking Ahead: Mind Over Matter
Next week the program adds another three minutes. On paper, that shouldn’t be terrifying—it’s barely harder than 25 minutes non-stop. But in reality, it means running further, and that’s where the mental game kicks in. My body is coping, slowly but surely, with the right fuel. The improvements are microscopic, but they’re real.
So here I am: tortoise pace, gummy bear-powered, bracing for the next round. Slow may not be glamorous, but it’s stubborn, steady, and still moving forward. And that’s the whole point.
Be the star of your own story even if the plot twist involves gummy bears and stubborn legs.
