I distinctly remember one day in probably Junior High, running slash limping around the track in some forced exercising, about ready to pass out and literally SWEARING to myself that if I just made myself complete this loop around the track to meet whatever PE requirement we needed to do I would never make myself run again in my life. Ever.
I kept that promise to myself during High School and College by doing fluff PE classes like aerobics and kickboxing and racquetball - anything that didn't require myself to put one foot in front of another in a continuous fast motion moving towards a finish line.
Running to me is boring. Mind-numbingly boring. And painful. I get shin splints. The balls of my feet hurt. Why anyone would want to subject themselves to that type of boringness and painfullness on a regular basis, especially in the name of a hobby, is beyond me.
So that's why seeing myself, in this picture, at a finish line of a race, is pretty much hell freezing over in my world.
So it was only a 10k. My official finish time was 126.96.36.199 (an hour and 15 minutes) which means my pace was 11:51 miles/minute. (That's pretty slow to you non-runners, the winner of the 10k ran a FIVE MINUTE MILE). I finished 888th out of 987 women runners. But I ran almost the whole time. I slowed to almost a snails pace of running a few times to catch my breath but the atmosphere of the race and being among thousands of other runners does wonders to keep up your enthusiasm.
My legs and lungs felt good. I laughed at a lady standing outside in her nightie on 13th east with her hose spraying an arc of water for the runners to go through and cool off. I was accosted by a morning news entertainment reporter with a camera crew trying hard to get to me to accept one of their Krispie Kreme donuts to take with me - he said "I know you have a sweet tooth!!" He was right - but during this 10 kilometers I was running Erin and said no to the donut.
I was grateful to the people that had slept out on the Pioneer Day parade route in downtown Salt Lake City - they cheered for us and clapped as we ran by, and one little girl offered me an ice cold bottle of water straight out of her cooler - I gladly took it around mile 5. Thank you, little random girl!
I blasted Katy Perry and Kesha and Everclear and Selena Gomez (what?!) in my ears as I made my way from the University of Utah down the hills to Liberty Park, barely believing I was where I was doing what I was doing.
Marc had finished before me and took some pictures of me approaching the finish line and about to cross it.
Then I made my way through hoards of other stinky runners to get some orange slices and a popsicle. When I was sticking my shoe out to the timing-chip-cutter-off-guy I kind of realized I had finished a race, a real running race.
I told Marc this still didn't make me a runner.
But I think I am, a little bit.
I picked a winner in the giveaway for the UTA Trax group pass ... congratulations to entry #6 - geecru. I will email you!