Well, that was interesting. Since July, I've been looking forward to running/walking in my first 5K. One of my personal goals - and items on my bucket list - is to participate in a 5K. But in my mind, I'd be able to jog more than walk. But, that didn't happen.
I started preparation in the gym a few months ago doing the Couch to 5K program. I hadn't ran since high school, and I graduated in '94. So it's been a REAL long time. I would jog 30 seconds or so and just not be able to jog any more. Then, I started working with my trainer, so I was no longer doing the couch to 5K program, but instead, I was doing strength training. I thought it'd be enough to finish this race, but not so much.
I had one goal. ONE FUCKING GOAL. Finish. That's it. I didn't care how it happened, I just wanted to finish. And I MOTHERFUCKING FAILED. :/
We got there this morning, and had to stand around an hour waiting for the race to start. The old me never would of been able to handle this, because my back would of been in so much pain, and it would of gone numb. Thankfully, since dropping 95 pounds, I don't suffer from that problem so much anymore. But, this morning, it was cold. I was cold. And after standing there an hour, my lower back was starting to feel it.
Right at 10, they lined up all the racers and let us loose. I remember commenting to my hubby "holy shit, look at how far up those runners are!" Yea...we were slow. The race was held at a cemetery and the road was not paved. It was loose gravel mixed in with rocks and stones. It was unstable and muddy from the rain. We walked the first mile in 16 minutes. I'm sure there were some people who ran the entire way around in that time frame, but I don't give a fuck. 16 minutes for me is a personal best. I can tell you that at the gym, on the treadmill, it usually takes me 22-25 minutes to go a mile. So, this for me was awesome.
Now, a 5K is 3.1 miles. By the time we got to the starting line (where we were supposed to walk around the entire thing a second time), we had walked 2.7 miles. So, I call shenanigans. It was NOT a true 5K, because one lap was 2.7 miles. And I was whooped. My back and knee were killing me. So, my husband and I said fuck it.
And? I feel like utter shit. I feel like a failure. Sure, I was "faster than everyone else who sat on the couch." Great. Big fucking deal. Sure, the "old me" would of been at home, on my couch, likely pigging out on something. Great. Big fucking deal.
I WANTED and NEEDED to at least finish today to feel successful, and I didn't do it. So now? I feel like shit and will only use this to fuel my fire. I will hit the gym harder next week. I will get on the treadmill and beat 2.7 miles in 44 minutes because now I know I can. I will not, ever again, take more than 16 minutes to walk a mile, because now I know I can. I have to do better!
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