Or even a half of one.
When you spend a decade with your free time living imaginary lives and your largest amount of exercise is having to get up to go get a refill of Mountain Dew, considering the idea of running for fun in any sort, seems a bit large of a hurdle. None the less, I still took and take this somewhat seriously.
5 months and 64 pounds later, I ran my first ‘big’ event. Yesterday, I completed my first ever half marathon, and in no way can say I feel good about it. It’s hard to explain, especially to those around the office, how it the world it can’t feel like an accomplishment.
Just starting the race was beyond intimidating. I have done a couple of 5Ks, 8Ks and even a 10K. At each one, you can tell just from glance, who is a racer, who is a runner and who are just kidding themselves. Obviously I know I am kidding myself, but it was always nice to see those that I knew were kidding themselves too. You look around and say to yourself, “I can beat that one; that one too; I bet I can keep pace with those guys.” It’s actually a horrible thought process to have. But it’s not indifferent to gaming. When a scenario starts, you can look around and tell by gear and classes involved how things are going to turn out.
FYI, just because someone is missing a limb, doesn’t mean you can beat them. Actually, just so you know, they are going to kick your ass. They have bionics…BIONICS!!! As my shin just started to cry on mile 10 after running up a mile and half hill, I was flirting with the idea of purposely crushing my legs, just to get bionics for the Chicago Marathon. I think it’s about the only way I’m going to finish that thing after having that reality check yesterday.
So looking around at the beginning, I was unable to find the normal herd of ‘green’ gear wearing runners. My lowbie buddies were no where in sight. It took my a couple of minutes, but just before starting I looked at my friend I was running with and said “we are screwed. Look around, we are going to be last. These people are runners.” It only takes one glance at me and my pale blueish skin from the monitor glow to know that I definitely don’t belong. My friend could at least pass as an older fatter version of someone who could run. But me, it’s clear that I have the posture and muscle tone of a vampire with a part-time professional job as a Doritos flavor tester. Basically the comic book guy from Simpsons. I had no business being there, and the ‘runners’ knew it. The race had a superior ward threshold, and I was going in with 4/5ths Lesser.
Here is a couple of things that I can share in retrospect:
Look at the damn course and run it through an elevation map before signing up. A mile long hill is not a big deal. I mile long hill at a 7.8 incline is a big fucking deal. The use of the word ‘fucking’ is on purpose and not for emphasis. 7.8 will fuck you, like a tax evasion accountant’s first day in federal prison.
Don’t go out buy ‘Blue’ gear to run in. Properly fitted shoes are all that matters. Spend your money on those. Run in cut off sweat pants, and a beat up old tee-shirt. Make it very clear to everyone that you have no idea what you are doing. You’ll receive sympathy that way.
Be prepared to see a lot of erect nipples. Though this sounds really fun now, keep in mind yours will too. Body wax is really awesome, because hot water on nipples with tips shaved off is not.
Also, she knows her nipples are hard, she knows exactly what you are looking at, you creep. Buy some sunglasses.
Overall, I would say running is a nice hobby. Running marathons is stupid, however it does yield a nice ‘purple’ drop:
This fat kid loves wearing bling. Better yet, having people look at it and then me, and then thinking to themselves, ‘bullshit.’