Running from running

I might be speeding toward disaster. The days keep passing by, and before you know it, it will be May 19. And on May 19, I'll be participating in my first ever race: as a member of one of the teams in the city's relay marathon. Of course, I use the term "race" very loosely. It's only a race in the sense that they'll be timing us and there's a start and finish line. Some people will take the race part a little more seriously; apparently people from all over come to Corpus to take part in this. So there will be some hardcore runners out there. And then there'll be me. It's not that I'm horribly out of shape. I've flirted with physical fitness off an on the past couple years. It's just never been a very deep or meaningful romance. Just enough to get by. But I had been doing better the past few months. In case you haven't noticed, though, the past couple weeks, I've been a little preoccupied with work. There hasn't been much getting out, and I don't think that will change a whole lot between now and the race.

But running just has never been my forte. Oh, I'll do it because it's efficient enough exercise. But I've never really learned to enjoy it. I could walk all day -- and on a couple of occasions I've done just that. I've hiked up mountains and even backpacked 100+ miles over a span of 10.5 days and come through just fine (just with two incredibly numb big toes). And I chose to do these things. But when I trade in the hiking boots for running shoes and increase the pace, and it becomes something I do more out of necessity than desire.

But there I'll be in 9 days, likely running on the beach or across the causeway bridge. The distance isn't even all that terrifying, but it's certainly farther than I would normally choose to go. But, as the youngest member of my team, I'd really prefer not to embarrass myself. I make no guarantees though. I figure I'm young enough that I can do something stupid to my body every once in a while and it will forgive me. But my body and I might not be on speaking terms next weekend. Or my body might flip me off for several consecutive days after the race (maybe even the dreaded double deuce). Maybe I just need to get on the 'roids for the next few days. Doubt I'll be urine tested at the finish line. I could stand a little 'roid rage as a side effect. Might be kinda entertaining. Just don't let the commissioner of Major League Baseball know.