like cattle through a garden hose we ran......


It was an early morning for sure.  I was groggy and my legs felt like water logged salami's.  The Captain looked at me like I was batshit crazy as I dressed for my race.  I gulped down some water, walked out the front door and ran very slowly to the starting line as a warm up for the race to come.

This morning I ran my first race.  In a crowd of nearly 900 participants I felt strangely alone.  I signed in, pinned my number on my new t-shirt (this came with the registration fee!) and made my way to the corral where the rest of the runners mingled.  I spoke to no one and no one spoke to me.  We stretched and shook our legs out waiting for the start.

When the horn blew those of us towards the back had to wait for a full minute before we were actually able to start moving.   We moved as a great mass for the first few miles.  I was very cognisant of one thought; "Run your own race".  I was not going to try and keep up with the lithe and nimble, but would stay at my pace.  My own dumb, slow, mediocre, stupid, pace.

It went better than planned, for the most part.  My legs were heavy and my lungs were strained from lack of use.  I mean, I did take two days off.  I felt strong for about 4 1/2 miles and then my body just went nuts.  My left knee started to hurt.  Not a sharp pain but, rather, a steady dull pain.  My quads started to feel weak, my hips sore.  Just not what I wanted to feel that early in the race.

I pushed through all that though and the last mile I committed myself to speeding up and trying to push myself out of my "comfortable" pace (which in all honesty is not that comfortable) and into a kind of torturous one.  I kept at it until I was done.  I finished having run the whole way.  Never stopping, not even once.

And then I felt sad.

I looked at everyone cheering their runners on and I have to say I felt terribly alone.  No one had come to support me.  There were no signs saying "go dave! go!".  It sucked.  Sniff.

And then I looked at my phone.

And then I smiled.

Texts and messages on the Facebook (and Instagram), messages from far and wide telling me they were proud of me.  Asking me how I fared.  I was relieved that someone out there understood how hard it is to put yourself through this running thing.  It hurts.  All the time.  It's nice to have someone that knows recognize your pain.

I walked home rather proud I must say.  3 months of getting up early, to do something that doesn't feel good, lead to this.  The end of my first race.  As much as I felt nervous doing the whole competition thing, I now wanted to try again.  I want to join the cattle corral again.  This morning, in the misty rain, it felt good to be one of the many.

Maybe because I was so alone. Maybe because everyone was so alone, running their own race, it felt good to be alone with them  Battling our own running (and maybe even personal) demons as a group feels better somehow.

Anyways.  Thats my story.

And i'm sticking to it.