I have a hate/hate relationship with running. I hate doing it, and I hate that I’m not better at it. For the past six years or so I’ve participated in the Scotiabank’s Bay Street Rat Race for the United Way, which is a 5 kilometer run through the heart of the city. I spend the two months prior to the event complaining about it, and the whole week of the event generally being annoyed about its approach. Once I actually drag myself around the course, I’m always happy with my accomplishment but will generally continue bemoaning the act of running itself.
This year was no different. However, every other year I’ve participated I’ve just shown up without completing any training, run (and walked) the course, and then suffered afterwards. Thanks to the Irish Sadist, I’ve at least been training a little. The big jerk actually made me run about 3 k on both Monday and Wednesday of this week – the nerve!
Despite being more prepared than usual, I was still dreading the actual run. Thankfully though, it wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t fun either, but it wasn’t terrible. The weather was great, nice and sunny but with a cool breeze which made everything more tolerable. I actually managed to run the entire course this year, with only a handful of walking steps when I thought I was getting a cramp (I wasn’t) and when I grabbed a glass of water. I even had enough energy in me to speed up for the last few blocks (I would say sprint, but that would be lying – it was more like increasing from a jog to an actual run). Had a minor setback a few steps from the finish line when the girl in front of me lost her big silver hoop earring (ya, she wore those running) and turned around to find it. She stopped about 5 yards from the finish line and just turned around – amateur. Needless to say we had a bit of a collision, that looked more like an awkward and sweaty accidental hug – and being the good Canadian that I am I said ‘Sorry’ and hurried off.
I had been hoping to beat my performance from last year, but unfortunately ended up about 5 seconds slower. However, I did manage to run the whole way and the best part is I feel totally fine today – last year I was a broken soldier for at least four days. Maybe this whole personal trainer thing is actually accomplishing something – bonus!
Awkward side note: The Irish Sadist made me weigh in today (barf, I hate that part) and he seemed pretty pumped. I think based on all the running he had me do earlier in the week, plus the 5k last night, he was certain I would have made some progress on the scale. Unfortunately, the number on the scale hadn’t moved at all.
While pouting and staring at the number I accidentally uttered ‘I blame Mother Nature.’ He looked at me and said, without missing a beat, ‘Oh, its your time of the month?‘ I instantly blushed and mumbled something about ‘Uh ya, almost – fattening up for winter.. you know…’ and hurried off to the change room. I think we’ve found the first topic I don’t feel like discussing with him!