A Recap of My First 5K

Two great friends met me in the parking lot to see me off at 7:15 (they were running the 10K that started a little later). I was surprisingly calm, not even nervous enough to pee. I made my way toward the back of the pack - walked right past the 6 mile runners, the 9 mile runners, even the 13 mile runners. It was important that I have no illusions and stay out of peoples' way. So after they fired the gun 3 or 4 minutes passed before we even started moving. I stayed with the slow joggers for the first couple of city blocks, where all the crowds were. And then I stopped running and started walking. It was a shameful moment. I hadn't even run a whole 2 minutes. I'm sure no one was surprised but me, which is probably why I was so ashamed. I was really hoping that adrenaline would compensate for my lack of dedication to a training program. At that point, the runners were in front of me and the walkers were behind me and Tiffany's I Think We're Alone Now came on. I love that little music box. She talks about running just as fast as we can, so I figured I really should get moving - an eighties icon was demanding it of me.

I jogged very slowly for a while and in what seemed like no time at all I passed a sign that said 1 Mile. I couldn't believe it - I was a third of the way in! Then about 16 minutes and a few Britney Spears songs later I saw another sign that said 1 Mile - 5K. So the other sign was for one of the other races. Fuck you, first sign. I could have cried. There were actually a lot of points throughout the race and during the rest of the day where I had an overwhelming urge to cry. Maybe that's all the adrenaline did for me. What a gift. And my little music box was on shuffle, so the Mindy McCready songs that popped up made me think the universe was telling me it was okay to pull over to the side and cry for a while. Once I skipped over one of her songs and Mary J. Blige's Not Gonna Cry came on. Funny. There was a hydration stop after the real mile 1 marker. I took some gatorade, then vomited after I rounded the next curve. I've always wanted to vomit while working out because I thought it would make me feel like a real athlete. It didn't. Somewhere in the middle of mile 2 a man with a prosthetic leg rode by me on a bike with a little dog in the front basket. I really thought I was hallucinating.

I walked most of mile 2, which was a little disappointing. Eventually, I just became way too forgiving of myself. Someday I'll figure out that self-discipline thing. The finish line of the race was in Notre Dame's football stadium, so the running out through the tunnel part was neat. It was like I was Rudy and Fortune was saying to me: You're 5 foot nothin', 100 and nothin', and you have barely a speck of athletic ability. And you hung in there with the best college football players in the land for 2 years. And you're gonna walk outta here with a degree from the University of Notre Dame. In this life, you don't have to prove nothin' to nobody but yourself. And after what you've gone through, if you haven't done that by now, it ain't gonna never happen. Now go on back. I'm not exactly 100 pounds, but I am exactly 5 feet, so I've got that going for me. Plus the degree, but that thing has yet to prove its value.

The first time I hiked the Grand Canyon I had two thoughts when I got to the top: 1) I see people with ice cream cones, where's mine? and 2) I could do that again. Right now. When I crossed the finish line at the Sunburst I had two very similar thoughts: 1) I see people with popsicles, where's mine? and 2) I could do that again. Right now. But it was a little different than the euphoria of hiking 6 miles on a steep incline along canyon walls. I wanted to do it again because I knew I could have finished in a lot less time and wanted to prove it to myself. So my goal for my next 5K is to shave 10 minutes off my time, which shouldn't be all that difficult considering my official time was 52:42. They posted the professional photos of our finishes online today. I'm purple and flabby in them. I love them. There's even a 29 second video of me jiggling across the finish line. It makes me smile. I'm considering posting some of them on here, but I know that not all of you know who I am or what I look like and I'm not sure I want that to change. I almost forgot to tell you about my favorite music moment. The Rough Riders Anthem (you know, Stop, Drop, Roll) came on as I entered the stadium. It was awesome to have DMX tell me that this is how Rough Riders roll as I collapsed and remind me that Talk is cheap m............

First 5K is in the Mañana

Here are the things that are going through my mind about tomorrow:

- What should I eat for dinner tonight? Maybe I won’t eat anything so I’ll wake up hungry and have a big breakfast. If I throw up, people will probably have more sympathy on me when I slow down to walk and catch my breath on occasion.

- Most runners don’t have boobs. I do. Big ones. Even for a fat girl, they’re big. Where am I supposed to put this paper bib with my number on it? If I pin it to my upper chest it flaps up and down unless I put pins in the bottom too. But then you can only see the top half of the numbers. Plus it looks ridiculous, all curved around my breast shelf. I have about 5 inches of torso below the shelf, so there’s not really room for it there either. And I’m sure a sports bra and the uni-boob it gifts me with won’t make this issue any easier.

- What if I just...sleep through my alarm? It happens; people would understand. Jessica warned me that since I’ve already checked in it will say “no show” next to my name when they publicly report the times. Maybe I’d rather it say that in the newspaper than advertise my 18 minute miles.

- This should not be this big of a deal. There are plenty of people who run 3 miles or many more on a daily basis. If this is really hard for me, that’s my own fault and I have no reason to be worried or complain or think of this as some sort of accomplishment. Thanks for letting me unabashedly do all of the above.

- I’m really glad they gave me a t-shirt.

I'm baaack.

I have been missing for a while. Sorry about that. I got shin splints, was out of commission for two weeks, went on one run, and then jumped back on the lazy fat girl wagon. Or relapsed, depending on your perspective. This blog was supposed to be an accountability mechanism, and it didn't totally fail in that respect. Trust that I felt sufficiently guilty each time someone asked me why I hadn't posted in a while. For most of the last five weeks the answer to that question was laziness, but the shin splint thing functioned as a nice stand-in for the truth as time went on. Those incessant questions and the ensuing guilt and shame are probably the chief reasons I started running again two weeks ago and have decided to run this 5K on Saturday even though I am incredibly ill-prepared. I owe a big thank you to my avid fans/critics. Lack of preparation is not the primary source of my anxiety about this weekend. A map of the race route reveals that there is only one bathroom stop, about a third of the way into the course. This concerns me. The most annoying thing I've heard from my well-meaning friends who want me to like running and claim that they do is that it is relaxing. How in the world can you be relaxed while you're trying not to pee your pants or shit yourself? Just when I think I've "found my pace" (does running a total of maybe 18 miles in 8 weeks qualify me to use obnoxious runner terms like that?), something very terrible happens. I have to go. Right then and there. Sometimes it's pee, usually it's poo. This should not be a problem for someone my age. I empty all my systems out before I leave the house. And I'm still running 3 miles or less, which means I'm not gone for that long. Well, okay, I'm still averaging a 16 minute mile. But the point is I'm under 80 and should be able to control my bladder at least an hour. According to my google machine, running often triggers peristalsis, or the involuntary constriction and relaxation of the muscles of the intestine or another canal, creating wavelike movements that push the contents of the canal forward. Well, isn't that wonderful. I'll keep you posted on how this Saturday goes. Or maybe I've just written a post about unsavory bodily functions so people will stop checking this blog. Then I can quit this running thing altogether without getting harped on. Just kidding. Mostly.