I hate running. I really really really really really hate it. Words cannot describe how much I do not enjoy lifting my legs faster than a walk. I used to jog occasionally and then I got a college degree and realized I hate it and stopped.
But I decided to do a triathlon and that’s part of it. So I’m running. A lot.
Last Saturday, a few friends drove down to Butte for a 5k. The three of them are hilarious. I thought the car ride down and lunch would be a riot. (it was) I blocked out the fact the reason for the trip was the 5k. And then we got there and it was cold and windy and hardly anyone ran so I couldn’t blend in with the other pathetic runners. I was the lone pathetic runner; besides some teenagers who stopped running half way and walked. I think their parents made them go because it was crappy weather and no one was going to show up.
I made it through the 5k. I came in second in my age group. There were two of us.
When I run, I suffer from severe lack of oxygen, which causes massive delusions on my part. So when I was asked, right after the race, if I would like to go with some other friends and do the Spokane to Sandy Point Relay race in August, I said yes. At least, that’s what I’m told. I don’t remember anything that happened after the race. Due to the delusions I previously mentioned. (I would include a doctor’s note about these health issues but I’ve yet to find one who will use the correct wording.)
So now I have to train longer distances. And I will be running three legs of this relay. Within 24 hours. So I will sleep in a van. And shower somewhere to be announced. And I have to do it SOBER, supposedly.
I really hate midlife crises. They wreak havoc on the knees.