Second things second, I attempted my very first 5k yesterday.
I am not a runner.
I was so nervous yesterday morning you would have thought it was the first day of school and I was worried that I didn’t pick the right outfit to start out the year. I really really really worked myself up over this run. I have been telling myself all week that there’s absolutely no way that I would be able to run 3.106 miles. The longest I’ve ever run was 1.5 miles. And that was on Monday.
I am not a runner.
Mr. Fluff and Fluffette came along to support me and I met up with a friend to run with. On the way to the race I told Mr. Fluff that my friend, that hasn’t done any training AT ALL, would most likely leave me in the dust and finish the race before me. He said, “who cares” and I said, “your face is stupid”.
I am not a runner.
As we lined up with over 2000 other cattle being herded people on Thanksgiving morning, I took a deep breath. I told my friend that she could leave me in the dust if she needed, I didn’t mind. I honestly don’t remember if there was a gunshot bang, what's up with that thang. I wanna know, how does it hang.... or if someone yelled “GO”, I just remember that I turned on my tunes and began to slowly jog. It took about half a mile for my nerves to begin to settle down but I was really struggling. I was ready to quit before I made it to the first mile marker. WEAK. By the time I saw the sign saying I reached mile 1, I thought for sure the race should almost be over. Um….it had been like 12 minutes.
I am not a runner
Early on in the race I thought about Mama Laughlin and how she has experienced moments that she wanted to quit and felt like she was “being lifted up” to help her finish her race. Over and over again I said “lift me up”. I didn’t know who, exactly, I wanted to lift me up….I just knew that I needed help.
I am not a runner.
Thankfully, Whistle by FloRida streamed through my earphones and that gave me a little lift to keep going. Once I completed the first mile, I knew I wanted to walk. I started my mind effing game and told myself that I could walk once I made it to the end of this street, then to that cone, then to that water station and finally I said I would stop at mile 2. My plan was to stop running at mile 2, walk about half a mile, then finish out the race with a bang. At this point, my friend was ahead of me and for a moment I got mad. She hasn’t been working at this for the past 7 weeks. She doesn’t seem worked up about this race or nervous in the very least. I finally snapped out of it and told myself that I’m not racing against HER. For all I know, she was a cross country runner in high school. I am racing against myself. Nobody else on those streets should matter. This is about Fluffy finishing something.
I am not a runner.
Surely somebody moved the damn “Mile 2” sign. This is ridiculous and I’m pretty sure I am on mile 15. Again, I thought about Mama Laughlin and her “angels” that lifted her up. I wondered who her angels were and then began to think about mine. I thought about Granny and Papa, two Grandpas and my two cousins, Candy and Luke. They both died at a young age (19 and 23). I asked again for them to lift me up and help me keep going. Nothing. What the hell does a girl have to do around here to get some help!!
I am not a runner.
In the distance I saw it, my stopping point. A young man holding up the Mile 2 marker. It was a big sigh of relief because I knew I could start walking soon. As I approached the young man, I finally heard It: My angel.
Luke said, “I died for your freedom so, dammit Fluffy, YOU CAN FINISH THIS RACE”. Rather aggressive for an angel but he was right. He was killed in 2004 while fighting for our country so the least I could do was celebrate my freedom by running this race. No, it’s not the same thing but helped me to JUST.KEEP.GOING. The final 1.106 miles was the longest 1.106 miles in the history of time. Time stood still as I watched the floods of spandex (Mr. Fluff said he’s never seen so much spandex in one place) pass by me. There was no end in sight and I was tired. My legs were tired. My pride was tired.
I am not a runner.
I was running extremely slowly, but I was still running. When I thought I just couldn’t go any longer, Chumbawumba streamed through my headphones, “I get knocked down but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down”. I fully realize that this is one of the cheesiest songs in the history of music, but that’s how I roll. I sang along and pushed my quiteverythingyoustart self to just keep running. I was in the home stretch.
I am not a runner.
As I rounded the final corner and the Finish Line was in sight, my eyes filled with tears. I don’t ever admit when I cry, but I will admit it today. There was a shit ton of people surrounding the finish line waiting for their friends and family. I didn’t want them to see me cry so I sucked it up.
After 41 minutes and 11 seconds of running, not a single step of walking, I crossed the finish line. I was finally able to start walking and my legs turned to jello. I was a little dizzy and my eyes glazed over. I pushed someone out of my way to get to the fella passing out bottles of water and chugged it like I was in a drinking contest.
It felt good, like slapyourmomandpunchyourhusband good. I never thought in a million years that I could do this. I mean…7 weeks ago I could barely run for 90 seconds at a time without dry heaving.
I finally finished something I started and it feels uh-mazing!
I finally finished something I started and it feels uh-mazing!
As of November 22, 2012.... I am a runner.
Fluffy in Frisco
Very good Charla! Sooo proud of you
ReplyDeleteSo proud of you! Love the pic of you and Fluffette!
ReplyDeleteAwesome Charla! We need to meet up and share weight loss (gain) stories and talk about the kiddos :)
ReplyDelete