Love, Jimmie

You guys, this past weekend was the weekend for my half marathon. Apparently I am not a woman of my word because I didn’t run it. I would try to blame it on you for not nagging me but somehow I don’t think that will fly seeing as how Lynnette did nag me as did Jane and no one nagged them and they both ran it just fine. I did, however, run the 5K which is exactly like a half marathon only 10 miles shorter. Go me!

This race marks the one year anniversary of my “racing career.” Ha ha. Hahahahahahahaaaa! That sounds so awesome to say “racing career” but if you could see me run, you’d know that the slogan: Slow . . . . it’s the new fast was totally made for me. Still, I’ve run a number of 5K events and one 10K event over the past year and I’ve learned a few things along the way.

• Even though it should, it matters not how steep the hill nor how many hills you run up during a race, your butt will never look like J.Lo’s at the end of it. Believe me, I speak with authority in this matter. Unfortunately.
• It is a fantastic idea for food places (specifically, pizza joints) to sponsor a race. They get their name plastered all over the t-shirts which is excellent advertising and they only have to bring six pizzas to feed 2000 people because no one wants to eat pizza at 8:00 am after running three miles in 22 minutes. Win/Win. (Sidenote: Same principle applies to milk sponsors. Chocolate milk after a hot sweaty run = hurk.) (Additional Sidenote: This does not seem to work as well for beer suppliers. Everyone, it seems, runs for beer.)
• I will cry every time a service person hands me a medal. Really it’s just too much energy to work up a bunch of tears every time I finish a race. It’s a heady experience when you realize that you just did the whole thing, even at a snail’s pace. So heady, in fact, that you might want to cry. But after a while, you realize that your breathing is more important than your tears and you just stop with the tears already because tears and rhythmic breathing do not go hand in hand. However, when a man in uniform who fights for your country in his spare time stands at the finish line with a medal in his hand just for you, a few tears are in order. (It’s possible that I clutched his shirt and sobbed “Thank you so much, for so many things!” It is also possible that I got some mascara and sweat on his shirt but he took it in stride. Good man, that man, whoever he is.)
• I can run 3.1 miles without stopping. I can run 6.2 miles without stopping. I can run 7.5 miles without stopping and still feel like I can continue on. But I cannot do those things when the temperatures are in the 90s and the humidity is above 100. It seems that I’m a winter running person which really blows because in the South, daylight doesn’t appear in the winter until about 9:00 am and it disappears at 4:30 pm, leaving me to run in the dark no matter what time I actually get to run which really, really sucks.
• I will be indignant and outraged when a 75-year-old man blows past me on a race course and leaves me eating his dust. And humiliated. I will react in the same fashion when a mom with a stroller full of babies blows past me also.
• Sparkly eyeliner helps me run faster.

I’m not sure what is next for me now. I’d still like to run a half marathon but I told you I’m currently hyper aware of my knees. I wouldn’t say they hurt but they don’t feel like 20-year-old knees any longer which is just a crying shame. And since Daddy-O had both knees replaced in recent years (which incidentally made him an inch and a half taller as he is now no longer bow-legged), I know that, genetically speaking, I might want to be careful.

We did start a boot camp class at work. They offer it to us two days a week after work and we have a trainer and everything. She’s awesome, at least for the first five minutes of class. After that she kind of takes on this screechy nasty persona who yells stuff like “You can do it!” and “Give me 5 more laps!” and “That was just the warm-up!”

It is just like me to consider giving up running for a while now that the weather is perfect for it. Hmmm, y’all got any suggestions or words of advice? I can’t rely only on boot camp because even though it should, two days a week of doing 400 million lunges does not a J.Lo butt make.  Believe me, I speak with authority in this matter.  Unfortunately.