Bike to 5k....I'm the luckiest man alive.

You know, there are a lot of people out there who have done a "Couch to 5k" program - and it's awesome.  I'm not sure I could have done that.  Well, I didn't do that, as a matter of fact.  I did a "Couch to biking" program, and now I've started down a "Bike to 5k" program...and everything, including the aches and pains...has been worth it.

Saturday morning, 6 AM.  If I'm going to eat, I know that I have to do it now.  Otherwise, there's no eating until after the race.  I know this because there have been countless training runs where I was cramping from eating too close to the run.  So I eat just a little, and start drinking.

7:30 - leave the house to get to the race start.  Registration starts at 8 and there's only a mile and half to go, but you never know how these things go, so it's "get there early and get it done."  I think we were the first in line to get to the registration tables.  And met the newly re-elected mayor.  Oh, ok.

9:00 - Race start.  I get off to a good start and am feeling pretty decent for the first mile....and that's when it starts: pain in the shins.  Pain? More like, "my shins felt like 80 lbs of lead."  In the interest of wanting to conserve energy, I think I failed to warm up quiiiiiiiite enough, and the result was fast-building lactic acid in my shins.  Maybe that's "shin splints" and maybe it's not - the truth be told, I don't really care.  All I know is that it forced me to.....walk.  I know that a lot of runners have to walk for a bit in their races, and that's fine.  A lot of those people I talk to are walking while doing a malf marathon, or a 10k, or other even longer race.  I was walking after about the first .75 (yeah, that's 3/4) of a mile.  REALLY????  Talk about disappointing.

Now, it's amazing.  Several times in my life, it's felt like time slows when I'm in the middle of a moment.  This felt like that.  My love and partner in this running event caught up to me (not that she was ever far behind) and pushed me through the pain.  Wow.  What an amazing woman.  Not only is she running the race, but she's motivating the Fat Kid to keep it going.  It's at this point where I sit back and look at it all and say, "What did I ever do to deserve the love of a woman like this?"  Those minutes seemed like hours to the pain in my legs, but her support made me realize something:  I had to fight to get here, and this race was not going to let me finish it without that same fight.

So we kept going.  I walked when I had to, and I ran as much as I could.  Finally, at the end, I had enough in the tank (and for the record, the energy, my lungs, etc ALL felt great - except the lower half of my legs)  And then I saw the finish line...and the best thing ever:  that clock that tells you just how much time has passed.  And then I saw the worst thing ever: the 70+ yr old man in front of me.  OK, I can't make this phrase sound good, but "AAWWWWW  HELL TO THE "NO."  Yeah.  Pain or no pain, I can't let a senior citizen beat me.  That bit about conserving energy came in handy as I crossed the line at 32:46, one second ahead of Mr. Anderson, who crossed at 32:47.  My support, my love, my inspiration, my cheerleader, my best friend...crossed just afterwards at 32:52.  She was only behind me because I didn't tell her I was going to sprint.  She deserved better from me.

11AM - packed, ready to go, a camping weekend awaiting us, we head off for a weekend of cold nights, warm campfires, hiking, beach volleyball and a little well-deserved camp cooking (steak, sausage and peppers, eggs, chicken salad, yams, etc.) and there may or may not have been a little whiskey, too! 

There have been a lot of "great/awesome weekends" for me in the last bunch of months.  In fact, I've been blessed with many weekends liek that over the course of my life.  This one....this one put them all to shame.  I am the luckiest man alive.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

The Fat Kid Runneth???

Well, I thought it might be about time to dedicate a post to this latest project of mine: running a 5K race.  For someone who understands that running and cycling share a lot of the same qualities, you'd think that I might take to it quickly, and enjoy it.  Well, there's a hidden quality they both share, and that is that TRAINING SUCKS.  Yup.  Training is where the hard work is done.  That's where you run, even if you don't want to, even if you can't stand the pain, even if you know you look like an idiot out there, even if your legs are about to fall off - you keep doing it.  The rewards are the races, but the training?  No, the training is where you do the hard work, and for me, that hard work - on the bike or on my feet - will never be "fun."  It's training, and it hurts, and that's why I don't like it.

But in the last couple of weeks, a few things have happened.  See, the Fat Kid's girlfriend LIKES to run, and convinced me that doing a 5k race was a good and important thing.  She's right, of course - running is a good thing for me to do.  It's healthy, it's easier to do wherever I go, it's relatively low-cost (if you want it to be) and I can still wear most of my biking gear while doing it...so it's really a smart thing, as it also works other muscle groups and is good for my lungs, etc.  I know all this, but the facts remain: I have never run a distance of 3.1 miles in my life, and up to now, have convinced myself that I could NOT do it.  In fact, I've been afraid of it, hiding behind excuses like "flat feet" (which is true) "shin splints" (which is true, but I've likely exaggerated it) and other such things.  So, registering with her for this race is a way for me to face this rather silly fear of running. 

And it turns out that "silly" is precisely what it is.  I mean, really?  Afraid of running?  Who does that?  And I remembered something:  I used to be afraid of hills, too.  Now I just don't like them a whole bunch, but I used to be afraid to even try them.  Now, I see a hill and even though I know it's going to hurt, I do my best to ride up it anyway.  Why?  Because I don't want to be afraid anymore.  I don't like that guy who fears hills.  Just like I don't like that guy who's afraid to run.

So, with that in mind this week, I've been running regularly, and on Tuesday, something pretty incredible happened: I ran the first mile without stopping.  Previously, I'd been running about 1/3 mile before having to stop and rest for a second, or at least walk just a little.  Not on that day.  I finally completed the first mile.  For the first time since starting this exploration into running (which started about 6 weeks ago with occasionally running with my girlfriend) I could look at what I did, and be mildly pleased.  Oh hell, I was ecstatic!!!  I - me - the Fat Kid - RAN A MILE.  I don't think I've ever run a mile before in my life.  Ever.  And here I am, doing it.  Still not necessarily "enjoying" it...but DOING it. 

Now - for a quick dose of reality, one mile's not going to get me far in a 3.1 mile race.  Not in the least.  So I should only be just "so proud" of 1 mile.  But it's that first mile that's the hardest to conquer.  I know if I can do one mile, I can eventually do two, and if I can do two, I can eventually do three.  The only problem is that I have until the 25th to be able to do those three.  Damned time limitations.  But that's a good thing, because it doesn't let me hide from it.  I'm forced to do it, to own it, to push myself, in an endeavor that is good for me.  And I'm telling you all about it because that's me not hiding from it either.  Who knows?  There may be a day when I become "The Kid Formerly Known As Fat" and I get to make my name into just a symbol.  Ummm...Don't hold your breath on that one.

In other knews...I'm getting even with her, and making her prep for a ride-to-be-disclosed-later.  Maybe we can both win!

Thanks for Reading,
The Fat Kid