The 5k and Other Things I Fear
Yeah, you read that right. I'm doing a 5k this weekend, and I'm scared. Seriously.
My last 5k was exactly 2 years ago-- the same 5k. Oh, I've done muddy, obstacle filled 5k's since then, just no flat, fast, on-the-road 5k's.
Why is the 5k so scary for me? I mean, I do obstacle course races and Crossfit competitions.
The 5k is scary because it's flat and fast. And there's no where to hide. No excuses for a slow time, other than "I'm slow." It's just me vs. the clock. And the clock doesn't lie.
You say, Maybe your goal should just be to finish the race. You know, have fun.
Well, here's the thing. I run for fun every other day. This is a race.
And I paid for it.
And there's the National Anthem. (The National Anthem, for Pete's sake! They play that at the Olympics.)
And there's On your mark. Get set. GO!
And there's that old shirtless guy in the spandex who does that weird arm-swinging-shuffle-wobble thing and is surprisingly fast.
And all those run-walkers who just shouldn't be able to pass me (I'm running the whole time, for Pete's sake!).
But most importantly there's the clock. And it doesn't stop. It never stops. But somehow by running faster, I think I can slow time. Because if I'm faster than I was yesterday, then I'm reversing the aging process. I'm thwarting Mother Nature (that wicked witch who's turning all my laughter and enjoyment of life into wrinkles).
And I'm proving to myself that I still can.
And the faster I finish, the sooner I'm done.
My last 5k was exactly 2 years ago-- the same 5k. Oh, I've done muddy, obstacle filled 5k's since then, just no flat, fast, on-the-road 5k's.
Why is the 5k so scary for me? I mean, I do obstacle course races and Crossfit competitions.
The 5k is scary because it's flat and fast. And there's no where to hide. No excuses for a slow time, other than "I'm slow." It's just me vs. the clock. And the clock doesn't lie.
You say, Maybe your goal should just be to finish the race. You know, have fun.
Well, here's the thing. I run for fun every other day. This is a race.
And I paid for it.
And there's the National Anthem. (The National Anthem, for Pete's sake! They play that at the Olympics.)
And there's On your mark. Get set. GO!
And there's that old shirtless guy in the spandex who does that weird arm-swinging-shuffle-wobble thing and is surprisingly fast.
And all those run-walkers who just shouldn't be able to pass me (I'm running the whole time, for Pete's sake!).
But most importantly there's the clock. And it doesn't stop. It never stops. But somehow by running faster, I think I can slow time. Because if I'm faster than I was yesterday, then I'm reversing the aging process. I'm thwarting Mother Nature (that wicked witch who's turning all my laughter and enjoyment of life into wrinkles).
And I'm proving to myself that I still can.
And the faster I finish, the sooner I'm done.
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