Run, run as fast as you can!
You’ll never catch me…
That’s a lie. An 82 year old mall walker chain smoking a pack of Virgina Slims could catch me.
I’m not fast. I’m not majestic.
I. Am. Not. A. Gazelle.
Two years ago I put on a pair of running shoes and never took them off (figuratively). In the literal sense, my 98 cent flippys are my bff.
I have a love/hate relationship with running. I hate doing it. I hate thinking about it. I hate myself while I’m slowly dying on the inside attempting to make it up a hill without screaming “Why God, why?”.
I love telling people “oh yah, I do like 4 to 6 miles a day.” It’s just my subtle way of telling complete strangers, “Hey, I’m a douche!”
I was content to do my treadmill run everyday, while watching crappy music videos and pretending like I was a real athlete.
Then, BAM! Sheena happened.
In case you’re unfamiliar with Sheena.. picture a tall, tanned, blonde goddess with a perfect body.. Nicest person you’ll ever meet. I die a little inside every time we stand next to each other.
Sheena RUNS! Sheena says “We need another runner for our marathon relay team!”
Now picture Emily (Me). Not as tall, a complexion as pale and Irish as they come, a little ‘compact’ and a bit persnickety.
“Sure! I…. Run?… Kinda…”
With those four words I had entered a race. I wrote the date on my chalkboard as a reminder. I would set out on my nightly workouts, look at that date and laugh. It was a long time in the future, unreal, just an idea…
Months passed and the date drew closer.
May 13, 2017.
I knew all but two of the ladies on my relay team. Sheena, Tiff – a tall, stunning, brunette with an amazing hippie vibe. Sarah – sister to Sheena, equally stunning but brown hair. Much to my dismay the other two women arrived- Amy and Morgan… Both stinkin hott! (My next blog post will be about my life as the DUFF!)
I brought my bearded baby daddy along for moral support, and also because I’m not sure I could actually function as a human being without him by my side. Sheena brought Jason along to chauffeur us around the worlds worst parade.
Six of us broke up the 26.2 mile race. I had the fifth leg – miles 17 through 20. Look up ‘horrible idea’ in the dictionary and you’ll see a picture of me… Running.
According to my watch (a large freckle on my left wrist) I did my portion in roughly 28 mins. Sheena was our anchor, easily mowing down 6.2 miles in about 5 seconds. I shit you not, bitch didn’t even break a sweat.
What did I learn during my first race?
First of all, yah, I know I can do it… I just don’t want to. Stop trying to cheer me on. I just ended up flipping well meaning spectators off.
2. Why, why, why Gatorade? Music blaring, sun blinding me and spectators to flip off.. I can’t discern between water and warm, yellow Gatorade.. Which is how at mile 19 I ended up with sports piss dripping down my chin.
3. 70’s soft rock is not great running music.
4. Lastly, it’s okay if a 60 year old man in velour stretch pants passes you… Twice.
Would I do it all again?
In a freakin heartbeat! In fact, look for me in September at the Sioux Falls half marathon.
13.1 will be my death, but surly, my tombstone will read –
“Here lies a douche, she died doing what she hated, to prove she was better than you… Sucka.”
BaBaammmmm
South Dakota Housewife 