Tuesday, June 26, 2012

In Training...

    A few weeks ago, my best bud sent me a note, telling me there was a 5K race coming up - the Bridgefest in Bay St Louis. We would start the race at the east end of the Bay Bridge, run across the bridge into Old Towne in Bay St Louis, and finish in the middle of the festival itself...I had managed to stagger through a 5K run just about a week before, but it was painfully slow, and downright painful. Lot's of walking breaks, lot's of foot-soreness. I knew I was not actually ready for a 5K race, even a race I had no hope in hell of winning (let's not be delusional here - I don't think I will ever come in first)...so naturally, I said, "Hell Yeah, lets do it!" Race day comes along, I crawl out of bed, down a couple of Ibuprofen, choke down some Powerade, sugar-free, of course, and get ready to race. I started well back in the pack of about 300 or so. The horn sounded, and the crowd started shuffling along to the starting gate. I clicked my stopwatch when I went thru the gate, and started my great journey...I jogged along with Robbie at my side for a few minutes. I told him I didn't want him to pace me, but run his own race...I was soon by myself in a sea of equally slow strangers, and that was fine with me.

   I talked to myself, making bargains with my inner child, the whiny little brat; "Quit complaining, see that sign post? We'll walk a little when we get to it." We would reach the sign post, and I would say, "Nah, just a little bit farther, see the next sign post? We'll keep running to that one..." I did take several walking breaks, but only long enough to catch my breath. I would walk when I noticed my form was starting to go bad, when I would start to heel-strike, or drag my toes along the road. Those were signs that I was truly fatigued and actually needed a short break. I never stopped moving, and actually felt some competitive spirit rising in me. "I wonder if I can catch that chick up there. She looks like she's getting tired - that Grammaw just dropped her, maybe I can too." I passed a few folks, they passed me back, I pushed myself as hard as I could, and eventually I saw the finish chute. I did my best to finish in good form, no staggering, up on the toes with arms pumping, and I think I did OK...nobody laughed and pointed, so it must not have been too bad...

   I powered thru the chute as fast as I could, but I was completely drained by that point. I got my finish time, remembered to click my own stopwatch, and met Robbie at the gate -he wasn't even sweating, the damn show-off! He helped me post my name on the finish board. I don't know what place I finished, but it wasn't last, and it sure as hell wasn't near the top - and I couldn't have cared less, because I Had Done It! I had actually finished a 5K race with a not-too-terrible personal time of less than 44 minutes. The time wasn't the important thing. What mattered was that I had kept going, believed in myself, refused to quit, and accomplished my goal. In that respect, I won!

   I am now running about 5 days a week, at least a mile and a half at a time, with one 5K run per week minimum. I'm still way too slow, but I'm walking less and less, and starting to pick up short bursts of speed every once in a while. I am actually getting out of bed early to go running before work - shocking, but true. I think I can safely say that my old life is over. The fat, shuffling cripple is dead, and the new me is here to stay. Instead of limping with a cane, I strut like a rooster, and tell myself that I am one sexy, badass hunk of a man, which isn't true, but that's OK...it feels good to feel good, ya know? I have set fitness goals for myself, some easy, some pretty dang tough, all of them doable with determination and drive, sweat and stubbornness.

I'll keep y'all posted about how it goes...