17 September 2012
Saturday I decided to try my hand at a local 5k run that was dedicated to the preservation of some scholarship for some poor and needy, young, up-and-coming fellow or female fella...are fellas female fellows?...they should be...that hopefully will someday be one of the 1%.
I tried a different tactic. I started in the middle of the pack of 200+ runners.
I spent the first half mile zig-zagging around fat guys wearing spandex, old ladies wearing spandex, some little boy (I think I stepped on him), and one stray dog.
I finally got into a rhythm...two steps-breath in...two steps-breath out...cough. And finished somewhere around 20th place out of 200 or so.
-old men who wear spandex so tight you can tell what religion they are is wrong.
-the amount of phlegm produced during the running of 3.1 miles is roughly equivalent to the amount of coffee drunk pre-race.
-concrete is good for driving on...running on it is not.
Did I mention the theme song to the Partridge Family was running through my head during the entire 20 minutes?
Hours later, I don't know why, I ran another six miles to shake the legs out. Sunday I took off. Today I ran 13 on the trails.
Yes, I'm addicted.