Several years ago, TB and I had a conversation that went
something like this: “If there was a Zombie Apocalypse, you would trip me.” To
which I could only reply, “Of course I would. I’d never outrun you; and you
know what they say… you don’t have to be first, you just can’t be last.” All
jokes aside, I’ve decided to train for a marathon, and I don’t even mean the
kind that starts on Saturday morning, includes pizza, and involves one hundred
twenty one, back-to-back episodes of Lost. Though,
in the spirit of full disclosure, that may be the only kind I ever finish.
But I digress; the point is that, as someone who comes from
a long line of bad hearts and whose cholesterol is 241, I need to do something
or I’m going to stroke out… and not in a hot way… more in a oh-my-wow- is-there-a-black-market-Twinkie-in-that-dead-woman’s-mouth
kind of way. So here’s my plan. Even though I run like the poster child for
Ritalin, and you wouldn’t make eye contact if you saw me on a treadmill, I’m going
to do a few 5Ks, work my way up to a relay-style marathon, do a half marathon,
and then do the full enchilada—26 miles and change; all the while praying that
I don’t shit myself in public… which I’ve read CAN ACTUALLY HAPPEN if you run
more than your mouth or errands. Not that I would know.
With that, I downloaded a virtual trainer and bought, “The
Non-Runner’s Marathon Guide for Women” by Dawn Dais. The friend who recommended
it said, “You’ll love it. The author hates running, and it’s not her biggest
fan either; but, if she can do it, you can do it. This is a woman whose fitness
routine included avoiding the stairs in her own house. She’s just like you.”
Yes, really. Granted, the friend who said that went on to explain chaffing,
then added, “It’s not that bad. People will be there handing out Vaseline if
you need it.” I’m not kidding you. That’s a real thing. Complete strangers stand
at check points and hand out petroleum jelly. I don’t know if I’d be flattered,
offended or intrigued, but I do know this: if I were approached, I would go to
my deathbed wondering why I was profiled, and I would never make peace with the
fact that a person I’ve never met looked at me and thought, “That woman looks
like she needs KY Jelly ASAP.”
Seriously, and that’s if THEY approach YOU. How in the HELL
are YOU supposed to approach THEM, “Hi, are you the lube guy?” I can see it in my head right now. I’d be at mile 13, need it, find the volunteer,
and there’d be a language barrier, so I'd end up shouting
and using hand gestures... only to find out that this person is just in charge of
handing out water… the lube guy was two miles back. It’d be horrid and sooooo par for the course. Maybe I
shouldn’t do it. Maybe I should just run to the store for a bottle of wine
instead. That’s way more my speed.
Talk to you later.
I also want to apologize. Earlier this week I posted Soul'd Out then pulled it down. I was writing two things at the same time and posted the wrong one by accident. I meant to publish this one. Sorry about that :(
ReplyDeleteGood luck with the marathon. I think you're insane. Of course, I've thought that for years, and you're in good company.
ReplyDeleteThat's the pot calling the kettle crazy, LOL! And, as insane as I may be, let's hope I'm insane with good cholesterol :)
Deletemkromd, sometimes you are very funny! :D
ReplyDeleteI know EXACTLY what you mean, choosing between types of marathons: Lost or a 26K marathon! That is a VERY HARD CHOICE. I make that choice every day, and I have to say, on the rare occasions I choose to go swimming, I'm always very happy with myself and content with the world.
So, I'm rootin' for you! If you want it, go for it! :)
You're so, so, so wonderful! I re-read your latest post then re-read mine. I get why I visit your blog, but I have NO idea why you visit mine. That said, I'm so very grateful you do.
DeleteAnd OMG... I would so rather watch 30ROCK or Mad Men or Lost all day, but I've actually started running. I think my neighbor does triathlons, because he's in crazy great shape, and I was jogging past his house the other day when he yelled, "FINISH STRONG." I wanted to say, "The only thing I finish with no problem are doughnuts." Instead, I just waved and limped up my driveway. Sad but true. Sad but true :)