Yeah, I was talking with a neighbor friend of mine yesterday, who also happens to be running the Ragnar this June, and she invited me to come running with this group of hers today at 6:00am. I fought against it. I know my ability (slow & steady, just like a turtle,) but she convinced me to come.
Her goal—to run 7 miles. That’s nice. But she insisted that there were others in the group who have smaller goals in mind. “Okay,” I said. “I will think about it.”
Well, I got up at 5:30am, got ready, and in the dark made my way to the meeting place. I knew most of the ladies there (neighbors and friends). We talked. We chatted a little. Two ladies had a real cool fanny pack/water bottle holder that I envied (and will buy later today for myself). It was nice.
Then we started running.
Or should I say—they took off like a bat out of hell, like a starting pistol had been fired. What’s the hurry I wondered? I even turned around to see if someone was chasing us. Nope, no one there.
I maintained my speed. I originally had worried about peer pressure (trying to keep up with these ladies, by their side, going the distance—farther than I had ever traveled before). But guess what? No worries there. In a matter of minutes, my running group of 7 ladies (8 if you include me . . . ha, ha, ha) were at least a half mile ahead of me.
Within, I would say, about five to seven minutes worth of time . . . I was alone . . . in the dark. I kept running, slow but sure, but with the dark all around me, I began to think to myself, “Someone could jump out from a bush and grab me,” or “A van could come by and pull me inside. I could be kidnapped!” BUT then I thought . . . “IF, a van should come by and yank me inside, kidnap me, and cart me off . . . at least I would have a ride.”
Nope, running groups are not my thing. Unless, I could find a running group of overweight, middle-aged women, who run no faster than the old man at the track with his oxygen tank dragging behind him—these are mypeople. Nope? No takers? Then I guess I am bound to be a lone runner.
It’s okay. I know what I can do, which isn’t much, but significantly more than I have EVER done in my life. I’m a beginner (I know some of these ladies said they were beginners too, but that was a bald face lie. If you can sprint like that, like what you did this morning, if even for only a mile . . . then you are no beginner, my friend!)
So, as I write this, having run/walked my miles today (not gonna tell you how many, some of these ladies are gonna read this and go WHAT? That’s so sad. I pity your Ragnar team), this group of ladies are still out there, somewhere in Centerville, perhaps even as far as Bountiful, running like the wind. I am amazed by you. I am thoroughly jealous of you. I applaud you. You go girls!
Thanks for inviting me, but my destiny is to plod along . . . all alone . . . and I'm okay with that.
Her goal—to run 7 miles. That’s nice. But she insisted that there were others in the group who have smaller goals in mind. “Okay,” I said. “I will think about it.”
Well, I got up at 5:30am, got ready, and in the dark made my way to the meeting place. I knew most of the ladies there (neighbors and friends). We talked. We chatted a little. Two ladies had a real cool fanny pack/water bottle holder that I envied (and will buy later today for myself). It was nice.
Then we started running.
Or should I say—they took off like a bat out of hell, like a starting pistol had been fired. What’s the hurry I wondered? I even turned around to see if someone was chasing us. Nope, no one there.
I maintained my speed. I originally had worried about peer pressure (trying to keep up with these ladies, by their side, going the distance—farther than I had ever traveled before). But guess what? No worries there. In a matter of minutes, my running group of 7 ladies (8 if you include me . . . ha, ha, ha) were at least a half mile ahead of me.
Within, I would say, about five to seven minutes worth of time . . . I was alone . . . in the dark. I kept running, slow but sure, but with the dark all around me, I began to think to myself, “Someone could jump out from a bush and grab me,” or “A van could come by and pull me inside. I could be kidnapped!” BUT then I thought . . . “IF, a van should come by and yank me inside, kidnap me, and cart me off . . . at least I would have a ride.”
Nope, running groups are not my thing. Unless, I could find a running group of overweight, middle-aged women, who run no faster than the old man at the track with his oxygen tank dragging behind him—these are mypeople. Nope? No takers? Then I guess I am bound to be a lone runner.
It’s okay. I know what I can do, which isn’t much, but significantly more than I have EVER done in my life. I’m a beginner (I know some of these ladies said they were beginners too, but that was a bald face lie. If you can sprint like that, like what you did this morning, if even for only a mile . . . then you are no beginner, my friend!)
So, as I write this, having run/walked my miles today (not gonna tell you how many, some of these ladies are gonna read this and go WHAT? That’s so sad. I pity your Ragnar team), this group of ladies are still out there, somewhere in Centerville, perhaps even as far as Bountiful, running like the wind. I am amazed by you. I am thoroughly jealous of you. I applaud you. You go girls!
Thanks for inviting me, but my destiny is to plod along . . . all alone . . . and I'm okay with that.
