Run Baby Run

I hate running. I do. I hate the way I can feel my butt jiggle. I hate the way it makes me breathe. I hate the way the back of my throat feels when I run - like I need to cough - but can't. I hate running.

But - I know its good for me. I do a zillion other types of exercises, but running is what kicks my butt (literally sometimes) so I'm trying it. I've got stubborn weight that won't leave so I'm adding running to my list of Things To Do in an effort to lose the fat. So I started running. To force myself to really do it, I signed up for a 5K. And then coerced several friends to sign up for it as well (that way I can't back out).

I was more nervous about it than I originally thought. I had dreams about it. About being late. About getting there and discovering it’s a tri and not just a 5K. But I had locked myself into it now.

This morning I got up and got ready. Warm clothes. But not too warm. Protein bar and some OJ. Out the door.

I'm running with my best friend Banana. She's pregnant and still kicks my butt. I tell myself I have to keep her at least in my sights in case something happens to her. She's pregnant (I know I've mentioned that already) and I drug her to the thing . . .her husband would kill me if she got hurt. I force myself to stay close enough to her to see her. I curse her long legs that take a step for every three of mine. I keep running. I curse myself for choosing to do this. I PAID to do this? What was I thinking? I keep running. I curse an unknown person who picked this route of total ups and downs, hill after hill after hill of road to run. I curse myself again for the exercise I did yesterday and for agreeing to teach two more classes after I finish the run. I keep running. The half way point is up ahead with a cup of water and a smiling face who tells me I'm doing good. I laugh at her naiveté. I keep running. The hills back don't seem as horrible as they did on the first half (it was an out and back race) and I seem to breathe a bit easier. The back of my throat begins to feel raw though and I try breathing totally through my nose. It doesn't work. I keep running. Through an intersection, traffic is held up for me and I feel like I need to kick it up a notch so the person in the giant Suburban doesn't give up on me and decide to put me out of my misery by just rolling through the stop sign and over my body. I see the final turn ahead and Banana and I decide to push to the end. Up a hill (of course) and as we near the finish line we hear people cheering for us. Some of them I know. Some I don't. But they are cheering anyway. As we get closer I tell Banana to go ahead - I want her to win and take the prize in our age group. She crosses over 2 seconds ahead of me. She takes our age group and I am 2nd. We are 2nd and 3rd overall among women. We wait for our friends who haven't finished yet to come over. We cheer them on. Veritably - it is awesome.

I'm tired. I'm cold now that I'm not running anymore and my throat is causing me to cough and hack like a chain smoker. I drink water. And more water. I eat half a banana and a handful of nuts. We get someone to take our picture. I'm so stoked its insane. I did this? Me? How in the world could I have run a 5K? I'm not a runner. I hate running.

I'm already looking for the next one.