I just got back from about an hour of brisk walking. Brisk walking means sweating like a pig (do pigs sweat?) and breathing heavy. I know I can't possibly walk that fast so this is me out.of.shape. I have eleven weeks to turn this sweaty, pig-like frame into a lean, mean, runnin' machine.
Sidenote - When I say race, I use the term loosely. For me, the only thing I'm racing is my out of shape booty and my brain telling me I'm going to die. If I can run away from those two things, I'll do great.
This is me until I'm allowed to have two feet off of the ground at the same time (aka running).
(Turn off your sound and just watch the beauty that is Olympic Power Walking. The dude who posted it on YouTube is a tool and super annoying.)