22 May 2007

The Longest Mile...

In the excitement of the weekend, we got to participate in an Operation Outreach 5K in Harrison, OH fundraiser for Soldiers' Angels.

Flashback: It's Friday 2315, I've just gotten off work and am headed home (10 min drive) from my second job as a bartender. After having worked all day in the office(730-5). I have laundry to do. Great.

Get that started, catch up on my SA stuff (get names out to my team), try to finish up my final essay for school, and get my gear around for the morning.

I used to be very athletic (emphasis on "used") and now, eh, not so much. But I have been making an effort at getting back in shape because basically, I'm old, fat, and alone. Everyone wants a frickin' Barbie doll, so I'm going to be the most high-maintenance bitch in town, since that is what all men want... but, I digress.

I get the laundry and other stuff done, lights out about 0315 Saturday. Up at 0545 (shot for 0450 but it didn't happen.) Drag my daughter's butt outta bed, we get ready, and head out the door.

We stop at Shell for gas and cappucino (hey, we needed our sugar boost), put oil in the car and hit the road. She's busy folding flyers, we're catching up on the graduation party plans, and just generally having a bonding moment.

Fast forward 0758 - we're racing through the Buckeye (not wise - however, well-protected by my Valentine ;) ) because check-in was 0745. We find the place, go running up to the registration booth and get our numbers and ankle bracelets. (yea, like I'm going to be going fast enough to warrant a timing chip.)

Anyhow, we're pinning our numbers on and stretching and this guy comes up to me and says, "Miss B?" I know who he is from the voice. He's one of the brokers from southern Ohio to whom I speak frequently. We introduce ourselves, and talk about how we're not leaving the other behind, we're walking at a snail's pace and the goal is to finish the walk without the ambulance and not come in last.

The bus pulls up to take us to the start line; all the little Air Force and Army folks are there bouncing around and generally looking fit and chipper. Bastards. :) This is just PT to them. However, because they are who they are, I refrain from tripping them. Pretty nice of me, eh? That and I don't need to be in trouble for damaging government property. (There's the REAL deal!)

We climb on the bus (and let me tell ya, I do NOT miss that from school.) I don't remember the aisles and seats being so narrow. hmmm. 5 minutes over to the start, we climb off and line up.

The local law enforcement does a Color Guard presentation as someone sings the National Anthem. Let me tell ya, it was an awesome sight to see those soldiers and airmen snap to and they didn't move, period, until that Color Guard was done and back to their station.

And we're off...

All the little airmen and soldiers take off, and we lose sight of them by the first turn.

We start down a hill; we're about 2/3 of the way back. That's cool, got a steady pace goin'. We walk for about an hour and a half, I sound like a wind machine, and I'm sure we're almost done. Nope, only a half-mile in. Fabulous. I'm going to die out here in front of all these folks, AND the broker I use frequently.

We get to a checkpoint where they're handing out water. (Lacey and I have brought our own bottles.) I'm not a water-drinker, but today, I'm making the effort. We ask them how far we are: a mile.




I'm being passed by old people using walkers. Seriously. Every muscle in my body is telling me what a frickin' moron I am and I am swearing I'm using the gazelle every day faithfully for at least 45 minutes, if I can just get through this without a stroke or heart attack.

I'm getting the pep talk from my daughter and Taylor. *C'mon, you don't want to be last, you can do this, don't give up.* I'm thinkin' this is pathetic. I'm gonna pass out and the ambulance is gonna run over me.

I'm still walking. I'm able to hold a conversation ~ thank God I quit smoking in December, otherwise this woulda just been plain hilarious. I have now BROKEN A SWEAT.

We make it to checkpoint two. Taylor (who had been out carousing around the night before and was more than slightly hungover - but giving it a stellar effort) took some water and we kept on moving. I ask how many are behind us, and Taylor turns and tells me 5. I damn near stop right there. "What the hell do you mean, FIVE??? We started 2/3 of the way up??? We haven't stopped. We've kept a quicker pace than the two in front of us. Why in the hell weren't we passing them???" I was on a rampage. My daughter kept turning around, walking backwards and waiting on me. (Showoff.) She told me to settle down, quit wasting energy and keep walkin'. *Mental note: kick her ass when we get done.*

We were keepin' a close eye on the three ladies behind us. They'd gain a little, I'd get the evil eye from Lacey and Taylor and the "we're gonna get passed" speech, so I'd pump my arms a little harder and we'd pull away.

During our little jaunt, I get to find out all about my top broker and what's behind the usually very professional, polite fella on the phone. He's a really great kid, lots of potential and has a future bride who is the same. Taylor tells me he told his fiancee a couple weeks ago, "I'm gonna run a 5K in two weeks." She laughed and said, "No you're not." (As in, you can go to it, but you ain't gonna run it.) heh. I like her already.

Now, along this pathway, the crossroads have all been blocked off by local policemen, two of whom I heard arguing with people in cars that they couldn't use this street 'til we all passed. One guy in a pickup got pretty irate. The cop said, "Whattarya gonna do? Run over 'em?" The guy said, "There's an ambulance right behind them." He was not amused. heh. I was. Do you know how hard it is to walk when your legs are jello, you're laughing your ass off and starting to hallucinate because you're so tired?
Last half mile... I'm dyin'. Tayor looks at me and says, "I am NOT coming in last." Fine. Be that way. I'd let you cross before me. Putz.

We pass one of the final crossroads before a really big bridge that goes over the highway (cool, a hill) and as I walk past this really good-lookin' cop I tell him, "shoot me, please." He just smiled and said, "you're almost there." I said, "No, really. Shoot me." My daughter grabs my hand and starts pulling me up the overpass. My heart is beating 437 times a minute, I can no longer see anything, and by now, my hair is nothing but frizz in the front from sweating. On the upside, it was a very cool morning, so it actually was pleasant.

We get into sight of the finish line, the little ladies behind us moving steadily. I am NOT going to come in last on my first 5K, dammit. I'm moving, I'm breathing, I'm trying to keep up. Then we hit victory lane. We have the obligatory judge at the beginning who does the pity clap for those of us who have finally decided to show up. I start giggling hysterically thinking, "great, I'm gonna pass out on victory lane and these old ladies are gonna beat me." Fabulous.

Then the crowd sees us. (Yes, everyone else who finished the race half an hour ago who have been standing around waiting patiently for the awards.) They start clapping and cheering. You know me... I do a Rocky Balboa, hands in the air, high-steppin' jaunt and the crowd goes wild. With laughter. I check my time as I cross the finish line; someone snaps my picture (For the love of all that's holy, please don't publish that picture ANYWHERE.) and am greeted by one of the race folks who wants the ankle bracelet. I stop in my tracks, put my ankle out (ain't no way I'm gonna be able to lean over and take that thing off!) and she starts unstrapping. I start falling and put my hand on her back to keep from going down and we both laugh...

We're walkin' around stretchin', gulping down water, and just generally slaphappy from bein' so tired... good Christ, you'd think we ran a 10K or somethin'. The little Army and Air Force brats are hangin' out, actin' cool. Day in the park. Pssht.

All in all, about 150 runners/walkers. Decent turnout. Absolutely a great cause! (Buying Kevlar blankets for the deployed Heroes.)

And the final rundown is:


3.1 Miles

18.27 minutes a mile.


20 minutes a mile.

Finish the race.

Not in last place.

Mission Accomplished. Good Job Angel.

We get home about 1p, I crash on the couch for about 2 hours, til it's time to get up for work. I sit up, push myself off the couch, and I kid you not, it takes me 7 steps before I can fully straighten... oh it's gonna be a long night at the bar.

And then the phone call about my son... 6.5 hours in the Jeep... 2 hour nap at the ex's, 5 hours in the Jeep trying to sleep on the passenger side. (Um, yea.)

Today, 3 days later, I am able to walk without making weird faces and sucking in my breath. All in all, it was a good thing. Check one off the list o' stuff I want to do and will never, ever attempt with my silly ass again...


Miss B


Anonymous said...

Now that was a fun read. Lots of good chuckles! Well except for the phone call about your son, glad that turned out not so bad.

And get in shape 'cause it's good for you, not because ya think that's what men want! Heck we men don't know what we want most of the time, how the heck are you gonna figure it out! ;-)

And thanks for supporting the troops in the 5K walk, it does make a difference.


Miss B said...

heh...tater, love, have you not been reading my Misadventures in Love? I don't care what all ya'll say, ya'll all would rather have the brainless barbie doll than the intelligent, cute, kewpee doll. i've seen it too many times...

anyhow... i would do a 5k again. all humor ranting aside, i did enjoy it. maybe if i do enough of them, i might even do a 10k down the road. sounds like something to add to my lists... but it would have to benefit something good, like troop support, cerebral palsy, juvenile diabetes, cystic fibrosis or leukemia. those have touched my life specifically.

no no, hon, thank YOU. :)
Miss B