Running on Empty

Ran in a local 5K last night. Hold on.. Just a minute.

Ok. I'm still trying catching my breath 12 hours later.

5K=3.2 miles of nature, peace, exhilarating stimulation for the entire body and an incredible amount of pain and suffering. Sorry, but there is a reason that New Balance uses the slogan HATE/love to RUN.

It is a great sense of accomplishment when you actual finish the race, but so is completing the Sunday NY Times crossword and my body doesn't hurt when I do that unless I'm bench pressing the circulars in between Ups and Downs word hints.

When did they start allowing children to run in adult races? I wouldn't mind it if they weren't discussing "Gossip Girl" and the "Teen Choice Awards" as they pass my ASSpiring quest for finishing the race still living.

Then there is the tortoise and the hare syndrome. The running wannabes who take off in a full sprint only to be passed by me trucking along at a steady pace of molasses just trying to remember how to breathe. (Is it inhale first, exhale second or vice versa?)

I would have finished in under a day in a half, but they also allow motivated obsessed parents with running strollers on the course. I actually ran more like a 10K trying to pass Wyoma and Grady with their Double Wide pack of babies on a path with no emergency pull off lane. Yep, up hill I'm shooting by them as they curse the fact they didn't use birth control, and downhill, I see them whizz by me like an XGames HalfPipe exhibition.

Next up is a Duathalon (bike/run combo) I thought I would punish myself to sit behind spandex and florescent UGLY extra tight shirts to motivate me to design a new race--STROLLER DERBY sponsored by extra baggy pull ups and fluorescent BabyGap shirts.