After I wrote this post on Wednesday about whether or not I should do a 5K I got called out by a friend on the lazy arse excuse I made for why I couldn’t do a half marathon (what up, TJ). I had been feeling down in the dumps lately in regard to journeying and standing still in said journey and even moving upward, instead of downward on the scale on said journey… and I was losing confidence… and fast. Fast like a gaggle of teeny bopper girls at a Twilight convention. That night I made up my mind that I was going to walk a half marathon on Saturday whether it killed me off or not. Was it the smartest idea I’ve ever had? No… but I rarely have smart ideas unless they involve a microwave, a bag of Dove chocolate caramels, and a pumpkin cupcake. Most people train for months before they up and do any form of half marathon or full marathon or quadruple marathon. They just do. Because it’s common sense and it’s smart and did I mention how smart it was?
Not me… I didn’t want to have months to train. I exercise 4 to 6 times a week… I’m already trained… but mostly trained to sit on the couch and eat above-mentioned microwave/chocolate/muffin concoction. It sounded a lot easier in my head… I would carve out 4 hours in my Saturday morning to walk this thing and then when I got home I’d be able to do all the other desires of my heart like grocery shop and go peruse the hanging flower baskets and go to dinner and to a movie. I had a plan… and when I have a plan lately, it’s going to happen. Up until the morning of, I think Madre thought I’d change my mind like I usually did and just sleep in… especially since she had volunteered to walk it with me. In fact, when I lumbered up the stairs at 9:00 Saturday morning raring to go, Madre was eating breakfast and lounging around in her muumuu like we didn’t have a schedule! As if!
I’d marked the path the night before in the car… measuring the distance to make sure I’d get in the full 13.1 miles. Then, Saturday morning, I loaded up a backpack (what up, Carl) with water bottles, granola bars, string cheese, Kleenexes (it’s allergy season), gum, a camera, and a cellphone (because I did have the thought to have a safety backup unless for some reason I couldn’t make it home on my legs). It was 39 degrees when we started out… but the rain from the night before had stopped, leaving a cool cloud pattern in the sky.
I knew I would get long-winded on this post, so I’m splitting it up into 2 segments (the 2nd of which will be posted tomorrow in which I give a mile by mile account of what was running through my head). The most pressing question to answer… did I finish? Almost… I say almost because I made it 12 miles… 1 mile short of my planned 13… but I did make it home on my own legs, crawling the last 2 miles, without having to call in the backup transportation. That bugged me for a long time Saturday afternoon… that blasted 1 mile I couldn’t muster to finish… but I’m not going to cheapen the experience. 12 miles is still a dagnabbed lot of miles to walk… especially when my nontraining included at most 4 miles a day. As for the rest of my plans after whipping out 12 miles? WHATEVS!! Those plans drastically changed due to the fact that my legs, feet, buttocks, face, coccyx, hips, spleen, and pretty much every other organ that ever existed inside anyone in all of history were revolting! They had little picket signs and everything. OUCH! I did manage to make it to the grocery store, but only if it meant I could lean on the cart for support or be carried around by 8 muscley guys named, Marvin.
Ask me if I plan on doing it again? HELL NO… ARE YOU INSANE?!?! You may need to wait at least 2 months until my mind has erased all memory of ever feeling like I’ve been hit by a MACK truck to ask me that question again… maybe by that time my answer will be a resounding HELL YES!! We’ll see…
Question of the Day: What’s the hardest physical activity you’ve ever done?