For the record, I did *not* run for chocolate.
Interrupting the series that has you all on tenterhooks, I reappear from the schedule-blowing tilt-a-whirl that is Kid Gleemonex's summer vacation to bring you:
Whatnot in re: the Half-Marathon I Just Done Gone and Ran!
--My finish time: 2:22. That's about forty minutes slower than BlabberMouse can do it, but damn hell am I proud of it! Yeahh boyeeeeeee! I felt great when we started out, kept pace easily with the 10:13/mile group for the first eight miles, and then faded a bit in the heat and headwind. I can't even tell you all what a lift it was to see my little family about a quarter-mile from the end, too, with their GO MOMMY GO! sign -- so much awesome. :-) I finished strong and happy, dead-legged and sweaty, and made straight for the champagne tent. Satisfaction.
--Lesson learned: It's not the running per se, it's the time-suck of the training that makes this type of thing hard to do. It's easy at first -- three miles, two miles, three miles, then a weekend "long run" of 4 miles. I can, and did, usually knock those out in the a.m. and get back before even Kid Gleemonex was awake. But later on, it's five-four-five-tenpointfive, and you're talking nearly two hours on the hoof on Sunday morning, which is just a beatdown.
--Which brings me to another point: "Support" is not a vague thing for the family of a person embarking upon a damn fool half- or full marathon. It's very specific; the partner has to solo with the kids while you're out running, the kids have to deal with Ma or Pa being gone on the reg, the partner has to listen to your run-talk for four months and then take a day off work so you can travel to the event and then bring the kids to the finish line to cheer you on (blowing another beautiful Saturday in the process), plus participate in the purchase of good running shoes, hydration gear, race entry fees, etc. All of which is to say: Thank you, Mr. Gleemonex -- you're a good man and a fabulous husband and I appreciate the hell out of you supporting me in this.
--This particular event was very girly rah-rah empowermentcakes, to the point where my finisher medal proclaims "I RAN FOR CHOCOLATE!" I, Gleemonex, love chocolate like the vagina-owner that I am, but goddamn it, that's not why I did this, and I resent the implication. I know the sponsor was See's Candies, but come ON. I'm a grown woman; I can BUY chocolate. But more to the point, and this is what really chaps my muscular thighs: I don't feel I "have to" run to burn the calories to "earn" the right to eat any fucking chocolate, either. I hate that attitude. I will eat whatever I want whenever I want it for whatever reason I want to, without regard to working out or calories or any of that good/bad food dynamic that fucks up everybody's -- well, every woman's -- life and relationship to food, and so the goddamn hell should all of you. Fuck that noise.
--Wow am I tired of running, as a thing. I want to do some Pilates, play some tennis, swim, lift -- anything but running right now ehhhrrmerrrgaaaaaaaahhhrrd.
--And finally: Ohhhh, you guys. This was something. I trained for four months to get to this point. I put in the time, did the miles, and fucking DID IT. And if you've ever wondered whether you could or should, I say: yes.
Whatnot in re: the Half-Marathon I Just Done Gone and Ran!
--My finish time: 2:22. That's about forty minutes slower than BlabberMouse can do it, but damn hell am I proud of it! Yeahh boyeeeeeee! I felt great when we started out, kept pace easily with the 10:13/mile group for the first eight miles, and then faded a bit in the heat and headwind. I can't even tell you all what a lift it was to see my little family about a quarter-mile from the end, too, with their GO MOMMY GO! sign -- so much awesome. :-) I finished strong and happy, dead-legged and sweaty, and made straight for the champagne tent. Satisfaction.
--Lesson learned: It's not the running per se, it's the time-suck of the training that makes this type of thing hard to do. It's easy at first -- three miles, two miles, three miles, then a weekend "long run" of 4 miles. I can, and did, usually knock those out in the a.m. and get back before even Kid Gleemonex was awake. But later on, it's five-four-five-tenpointfive, and you're talking nearly two hours on the hoof on Sunday morning, which is just a beatdown.
--Which brings me to another point: "Support" is not a vague thing for the family of a person embarking upon a damn fool half- or full marathon. It's very specific; the partner has to solo with the kids while you're out running, the kids have to deal with Ma or Pa being gone on the reg, the partner has to listen to your run-talk for four months and then take a day off work so you can travel to the event and then bring the kids to the finish line to cheer you on (blowing another beautiful Saturday in the process), plus participate in the purchase of good running shoes, hydration gear, race entry fees, etc. All of which is to say: Thank you, Mr. Gleemonex -- you're a good man and a fabulous husband and I appreciate the hell out of you supporting me in this.
--This particular event was very girly rah-rah empowermentcakes, to the point where my finisher medal proclaims "I RAN FOR CHOCOLATE!" I, Gleemonex, love chocolate like the vagina-owner that I am, but goddamn it, that's not why I did this, and I resent the implication. I know the sponsor was See's Candies, but come ON. I'm a grown woman; I can BUY chocolate. But more to the point, and this is what really chaps my muscular thighs: I don't feel I "have to" run to burn the calories to "earn" the right to eat any fucking chocolate, either. I hate that attitude. I will eat whatever I want whenever I want it for whatever reason I want to, without regard to working out or calories or any of that good/bad food dynamic that fucks up everybody's -- well, every woman's -- life and relationship to food, and so the goddamn hell should all of you. Fuck that noise.
--Wow am I tired of running, as a thing. I want to do some Pilates, play some tennis, swim, lift -- anything but running right now ehhhrrmerrrgaaaaaaaahhhrrd.
--And finally: Ohhhh, you guys. This was something. I trained for four months to get to this point. I put in the time, did the miles, and fucking DID IT. And if you've ever wondered whether you could or should, I say: yes.
Labels: cryin' amazacrazy, deportivo, respek knuckles, The Californians, things that are great, yes Sensei
posted by Gleemonex at 1:05 PM
5 Comments:
Congratulations! I don't run anymore (the knees gave out somewhere around 35)but much respect from sunny Florida for all that running business. Its HARD WORK for reals.
Crossing that finish line is like nothing else. It's something no one can ever take from you and you will find strength in it from now on. "I can do this, I ran 13.1 miles in a row!"
Congrats :)
AWESOME. Just awesome. Love reading stories like this. Congratulations to you and to Mr. Gleemonex for being the invaluable support.
i am so proud! of you! and your running! which i have nightmares about and feel like if i can conquer running in real life i will cure my nightmares about running but i am too scared to begin! that "go mommy" sign sounds like the best thing ever. that would make it all worth it to m.
Awww, thanks, all of y'all! :-)
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