OK before we get started, I just wanted to shout out to those of you that checked out the re-launch of this blog over the weekend. I got a lot of awesome compliments and it's always nice to know that so many of you out there are rooting for me as I continue my battle with fatness... and life in general kicking me in the balls every chance it gets.
Anyway... we're off and running. No literally. Back when I was The FatMan I had a desire to run. Unfortunately I didn't have the opportunity. My tonage was such that any attempt at running for any length of time was about as successful as an elephant running on stilts. Actually, that's probably what I looked like as well.
Well after dropping the weight I began to realize that running wasn't just possible, it felt good. Before long I started laying out a plan that included some fairly lofty running goals. The plan began with running in (and completing) a 5K. This summer I signed up for a 3 race series, one in June, one in July and one in August. It wasn't until I had officially signed up that I realized what I had done. I had agreed to run a crazy long distance during the hottest months of the year in a state with some of the nastiest, crappiest, most disgusting weather on planet Earth. Oh crapsticks... what have I done?
The first race was an education in endurance. Let's just say the difference between running on a treadmill and running outside in Florida is like the difference between shooting a bullet out of a gun... and throwing it. It's massive. It ain't even close. The weather was hot, humid and completely still. Breathing was like sucking on a damp sponge. I eventually finished the race in 27:42. Well more accurately... a puddle of goo that looked like me crossed the finish line.
The 2nd race was very similar. Same crappy weather, same puddle of goo, slightly faster time (27:29). Since then I've been working on really improving my time, running every chance I get, trying to drop more weight, etc. Unfortunately at my age there's another "time" I've run into. Father Time. And he's a bitch. Remember when we were kids and we could run forever and nothing ever hurt? Yeah me either.
As I write this I'm nursing a pulled hamstring, a sore knee and more blisters on my feet than I care to count. Seriously... I'm paying attention to parts of my toes that I never knew existed. And something I'm noticing the older I get: There are body parts that start to hurt... and just keep on hurting. As a kid, you hurt something, it sucked, it healed, it got better. Now? You hurt something, it sucks, it still sucks, it sucks a little more, it sucks slightly less, and that shit just stays broke... like... permanently.
So it's on folks. We're 5 days out from my next race and if the spit and scotch tape holds up, I should be fine. As for my running future? Well there's a 10K in October I have my eye on, and down the road I plan on somehow completing a half marathon... and eventually one day... a full-blown marathon. Why? Because at my age the NFL, NBA and MLB are out of my reach, I'm too old to become a professional boxer and I suck at golf. Running is one of the few sports left I can train for and fool myself into thinking I can be fairly competitive in.
Oh... and in February I'm planning on running with the bulls. No seriously! And no, I promise I don't have some crazy death wish after the year I've had. It actually looks fun. Who wants to run with me??
If I was there I would walk and you can run around me, ha ha. Running is not for me any more bad knee and sometimes back but I keep on ticking so that's a good thing, luv ya and good luck.
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