Thursday, May 31, 2007

10 Mile "Race"? Not

Saturday, May 26th I sort of ran the annual Soldier Field 10 Miler here in the City Of Big Shoulders.

I sent the following email account of my experience to my 10 year running buddy Bambi.

She'll probably be mad at me for sharing the email but it wouldn't be the first time I've annoyed's my job and role in life.

Hey Bambi,
Couple things to tell you about the race.
1. Boy it was hard!
2. I'm too old for this running crap.
3. You made a wise decision to stay in camp and drink liquor and eat.
4. Next year I'd like to go camping with you instead of run this foolish race.
5. That Asian girl Sara, the "new" runner was BORN TO RUN...I knew it, I could see her natural easy stride the first time we ran together. So if there's any consolation I got from training and running this goofy race it is that I can spot a runner when I see one. She has that same fluid ease of movement that my nephew has.
6. DAMMIT!!! I wish I could run like that.
7. I either have to quit smoking or quit running, the turmoil is killing me.
8. I don't know why you still speak to me.
9. But I'm glad you still speak to me.
10. And I hope you had a great weekend, maybe I will now that I got this foolish run behind me.

There, that pretty well sums it up:)

Now the blow by blow account, just in case you're really bored. I wouldn't expose my stupidity to anyone but you since I think you're the only friend I have with an extreme sort of perverted tolerance for silly old farts:)

1. 10:43:90 (feeling frisky, lots of pretty girls but couldn't find one to match up with you)
2. 10:39:52 (warmed up now and planned to pick up the pace...HA HA HA)
3. 10:39:38 (what can I say, didn't have it in me...^$%%#%#)
4. 10:59:77 (thinking maybe I'm an 11 min miler instead of 10 min miler %$%%#%, cough, spit, belch, bitch and moan)
5. 10:23:71 (okay, little better but I'm breathing too hard. what's wrong with me? fume, curse, curse)
6. 10:43:65 (screw this business. there's a cute girl with pink short, shorts...maybe I can keep up with her)
7. 11:39:68 (okay, so I can't run, I don't care, I wanna go home to my Starbucks and Marlboros)
8. 11:30:09 (guess I'll trot this bitch out but I'll be damned if I'm going to smile. sara hollers "hey sam"..she caught me)
9. 10:10:09 (sara threw down, she was flying and having fun...what's an old man to do)
10. 9:44:63 (glad that's over, sara is excited and enjoyed the "speed" the last mile, so i'm happy for her..mad at myself)

My goal was 10:00-10:30 min pace.
Missed my goal, I was slow but I WAS OUT THERE!!! WHOO HOO!
What did I learn?

I'm not the only cashew in this big bag of mixed nuts called the human race.

Now I'm going to take a nice hot shower, take a nap and wing my way to the corn fields of Nebraska and to the Land Of Oz!

Wish my mother were still alive to bake me some swedish rye bread. Sigh!
Life goes on.

Carry on wayward daughter.

See ya!