Jimmy Runs a 5k

Posted: September 11, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

 

 

This post will be written in a timeline in order for dramatic effect or something along those lines.

Two Months Prior to race day: I get an email from my sister asking if I want to run in a 5k with her and my other sister.  Being a person that often makes decisions without thinking about them first said, “Sure why the hell not.”  I had started up P90X again, surely I could tackle a 5K.

One month and 29 Days prior to race day: Completely forget about saying I would run in a 5k.

One month prior to race day: Pull a muscle or get a hernia or some other excuse that I stop working out until I feel better

One week prior to race day: Sitting outside around a bonfire with the neighbors pounding a few beers when I have an epiphany that I am supposed to run a 5k the next day or maybe the next week.  Laugh about it and drink 15 more beers.

4 Days prior to race: Get an email from my sister reminding me of our 5K on Saturday.  Me: “Son of a Bitch, well I guess I’m still gonna do this”  Call my sister and tell her I’m still in.  In the back on my mind I’m thinking there’s no way I can do this.

3 Days prior to race:  I decided I better at least try and run a mile.  So I wait for the cover of darkness to avoid people seeing the catastrophe that is about to happen.  Thirty seconds into the mile I begin to think there is no way I can do this and seriously consider walking back to my house.  Two minutes in and I’m still not thinking I’m going to make it.  The only reason I don’t stop is that my house a mere 2 blocks behind me seems so far away.  So I trudge on thinking what the hell am I doing.  Fast forward 10 minutes and 30 seconds and I am back at my house.  I’m ecstatic that I made it, but my legs are on fire and I feel like I’m going to pass out.  However, I’m convinced I can make it through the 5k

2 Days prior to race:  My quads are so tight that I can barely get down the steps in my house.  There’s no possible way I’m going to be able to run this race, consider calling my sisters and telling them I’m out.  Luckily I have a golf tournament to go to that will help keep my off the impending sense of doom that is creeping into my mind.

Approximately 24hrs till race day:  Wake up in the morning and my legs feel like they may actually work today and my second thought is that I’m going to need to eat well today and carb load.  The following was my diet for the day:

Breakfast: Skipped…apparently sometime between 7:00 am and 7:30 am I forgot about the whole eating well today. I do manage about 5 cups of coffee at work though between 8:00 am and 11:00 am.

Lunch: Gus comes to my office to see if I want to go out for lunch, forgetting about the salad I was going to have, I say yes.  My choice for lunch is a chicken parm sandwich where the cheese consists of 8 fried mozzarella sticks.  I’m sure there’s plenty of carbs, but just in case I get an order of fries too.

Dinner:  Alright this is the meal where I actually eat something decent today.  Well the wife is at a photo shoot, so I make the kids mac and cheese for dinner.  Apparently 2 boxes is only enough to feed 3 small children.  Not wanting to make anything else I decide to wait for the wife to get home.  She wants Panchero’s, which essentially is a 5 pound burrito the size of my head.  I say sure thinking of all the carb loading I’ll be doing with the rice, forgetting of the gut wrenching indigestion I’ll get from the extra hot sauce and jalapenos I also decide to get.  To top it off I decide I better have few beers with the neighbors before getting a good night sleep.

Race Day Morning:  Rise and shine at 6:00 am and down some cheerios for breakfast. Then head to the gas station for as much Gatorade that I can carry.  While there I notice they have something called Gatorade Prime that was supposed to give me the vitamins and energy to run this race.  I throw it in with everything else and decide to chug it just before the race.

7:00 am: One hour till race time. I decide I need to arrive early to get in plenty of stretch time.

7:59 am: One minute till race. Pandora is on the headphones and I’m ready to rock to this thing.

8:00 am:  I’m positioned about mid-pack looking for someone I can keep pace with and the people that I can’t get beat by.  Suddenly the gun sounds and we’re off.  Holy shit these people are running fast, my sisters immediately distance themselves, so much for keeping pace with them.

8:01 am: I get passed by an little old lady shaped and looking like a plum.  What the hell am I really going to get beat by Plum Lady? Oh well I’ve just got to finish this and I’ll save a big kick for the end, I just have to keep her in sight.

8:15 am: Holy shit I’m going to die, this has to almost be over.  Plum Lady is beginning to pull away.

8:17 am:  Turn a corner and see my wife and 3 kids cheering me on.  Not wanting my 4 year to think his dad is going to die, I put on a big smile and give him a high five.  There’s no way I’m going to catch Plum Lady and I just got passed by a 7 year old girl.

8:30 am: I’m convinced there’s no way I’m going to finish, but I’ve caught up to the 7 year old girl.

8:36 am: Sweet Jesus the finish line is in sight.  In my moment of elation I get passed by a guy in a full on sprint. What the hell, where did this guy come from.  Then I realize I just got beat by a guy running the 10k.  Holy Shit he is a man or Cheetah.

8:38 am: I did it! My first thought is to scan the crowd for Plum Lady to congratulate her and confirm that she was not a figment of my imagination. Alas she is nowhere to found, maybe she was my giant plum colored white rabbit.  Clearly my oxygen depleted brain had been manifesting hallucinations in an attempt push me towards the finish.  Hell maybe I had passed out and  along the route somewhere.  Five minutes pass by when I finally see a small purplish glob prodding towards the finish line…it was the Plum Lady!  Some how some way I had passed her, I can only assume she got lost or sidetracked when we passed the yarn store.  But alas, victory was mine and I could with a clear conscious crack open a beer knowing that I had not been beaten by the 65 year old plum.