I've spent the last two weeks dreading
this Saturday.
Three weeks ago, in a fit of optimism,
enthusiasm and joi de vivre (opti-thusi-joi?) I signed up for
a 5k. Three weeks ago I figured I had enough time to train so that I
could run well enough to not embarrass myself. Three weeks ago I
walk/jogged a mile and a half on my first day of training and was
feeling pretty smug.
Then thing got really, really
busy. Just they do every year at this time. Just like I should have
known would happen again. Just like I let totally blindside me again!
Now I'm just two days out from the run, and my to do list is still
at least 5k long. And my first training run was also my last training
run.
There's no backing out though, because
I've already registered and sent in my money. I'm not dedicated or
foolhardy, but I am cheap. And stubborn. But mostly cheap. If I was
to travel back in time and find myself boarding the Titanic and they
told me tickets were non-refundable, I would grab a life vest and
settle in for the ride.
The fact that I get out of breath
walking to the refrigerator isn't enough to dissuade me from going,
either. The Princess and I did three runs in the past three months
without training. They were more about the fun than the run - “Hey,
let's spend the night in Des Moines and run 5k in a tutu.” “Let's
run around North Liberty after dark on a path lit by glow sticks.”
“Let's run a mile in downtown Iowa City wearing Halloween
costumes.”
We jogged a little, walked a little,
had a lot of fun and got some exercise. I figured that was the whole
point. We survived with only a few days worth of aches and pains
after each.
Our lack of training isn't something
I'm particularly proud of. (Being lapped by a chihuahua in a Batman
cape really should have been a more effective motivator.) In fact,
after every run, we'd gasp and say “We've really got to start
training for these things.”
While the Princess and I didn't train
to run, it's not like we just rolled off the couch, slipped on some
tennies and headed out. We've been working out at the gym.
Unfortunately, pushing a prowler loaded with 70 pounds for 30 yards
is a lot different that pulling my ass loaded with 70 pounds for 3
miles. And I sincerely hope they won't make me stop at each mile mark
and do a set of bicep curls – not the 12-oz. kind, either.
That reminds me of a girl I used to
work with who did “hashing” runs. These “Hash House Harriers”
runs involved following a marked trail (instead of a mapped course)
and stopping to chug beers every so often. Back then it sounded fun
and crazy. Now it sounds mostly crazy, and a little nauseating.
This Saturday's run/walk is a “Pancake
Dash,” complete with pancake breakfast. I think it sounds like fun.
I'm not sure I'll partake of the pancakes, but breakfast means coffee
and that will keep me going. Heck, if they had Eric Balfour holding a
trucker-sized mug of coffee at the finish line I'd set all kinds of
speed records!
Now if you were to combine the hashing
and the dashing you could end up with something really fun. Like a
Mimosa cocktail run! Or maybe a Mimosa walk... which could lead into
a Bloody Mary walk... and on to some little quiches and sausages,
with fruit, or sweet rolls.
In other words, a brunch buffet.
That sounds like my kind of 5k.
