Friday, January 21, 2011

eight days

actually, it's seven.
I have seven days to make a decision about what will happen on the eighth.
well, really, it's only five, because if I'm going to do it correctly, I need to register ahead of time.

"it" is the winter running series that begins a week from tomorrow with a flat 5k out by the great salt lake. I know I can do that. but two weeks later is the 10k, and two weeks after that is the 15k which is so far from where I am as to be in a different hemisphere. so do I really need to fork over forty bucks to get a t-shirt and permission to try to kill myself?

I ran today and during the first quarter mile I thought I was a fool to even be attempting a run. my heartrate had jumped to my zone 5 number (on a slight descent, no less) and it hurt to breathe and my legs were complaining and blah blah blah . . .
and then it got better.
I actually hit a place today where everything felt pretty darn good, though I can't say I felt that elusive "runner's high" I've heard rumors about. I'm happy with pretty darn good, and I'm overwhelmingly grateful when that feeling sticks around for more than a few blocks.

but am I ready to go join a bunch of people who really run?
I don't know.
I'm sure there will be others like me there, beginners, wannabes, slow-pokes. people doing it to keep themselves on track, people pushing to achieve goals.
I'm such a loner, though, doing my own thing: I really don't need a piece of paper, a bib number, or anything commemorating my first official 5k. I can take my own word for having done that.
the bottom line, I think, is that I'm not yet certain that I care about making it much further than that. I don't see me ever doing a marathon; I don't even feel a pull to do a half-marathon. or a 15k. I might be giddy at the ability to call myself a runner, but I'm not really a runner runner.

then again, it's terribly difficult to predict the future.

I can't even predict what I'll be doing next wednesday as the deadline to sign up for this running series sticks its heels in . . .

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