Thursday, April 05, 2012
I just gave a kid $25 to enter me in a 5K walk/run that takes place in a few weeks, and immediately told myself, what? Are you nuts? You can't run, and you're going to be surrounded by a bunch of young, muscular folks wearing bits of clothing that look like they nicked it from some little kid.
Seriously, I had to ask the high school football player who sold me the ticket (it benefits the booster club, so I'm feeling good about what may end up to be a charitable donation and hey, I'll show up at 9 to cheer you guys on!) exactly how many miles are in a 5K?
Yes, I am that clueless. This morning I'm googling "5K, how it works" in what could be the start of something new for me. I've ignored the race world for 52 years, since running has never been part of my skill set. I was the kid picked last for anything that involved speed on my feet. There's a physical reason for it, but it serves more as a psychological block to doing something new, something unchartered. What it boils down to is, people who can run, and run really well, intimidate the hell out of me.
But after losing 50 pounds and getting a walking habit that averages 12 miles a week, I've entered the Zone of Dangerous Thought: "I've done this, and now I can do that."
ZDT translation: I'm picturing myself in little clothes actually getting up at 7 am on a Saturday morning to keep up with the beautiful people.
I'll just have to walk fast.