As you all know I am trying to get fit for my trek to Everest Base Camp, so I thought it would be a smashing idea to enter the City 2 Surf fun run. Now I would just like to point out that I am NOT a runner. I exercise my arse off doing a variety of things such as walking, yoga, taebo and Zumba but running? No. But this was just a minor technicality and didnt dampen my enthusiasm about entering. After I registered myself, I had visions of training over the next few weeks to prepare myself. What I didnt do was actually check what the date was. If I had, I would have realised that I would in fact only have one week to prepare. So my week of preparation would include working insane hours, doing back to back shifts, surviving on 4 hours sleep a night, attending work functions, drinking alcohol and eating crap food such as pizza. Exercise didnt even come into it….
So on the morning of the run, I woke up at 5am after a restless nights sleep (thanks to my dogs barking inanely at something). I must be kidding myself I thought. Who the hell wakes up at 5am on a Sunday to exercise?? I dragged my sorry arse out of bed with the intention of having a healthy high protein cereal with fruit for breakfast. Unfortunately I wasnt even remotely hungry. And the milk was off. Damn. I cant possibly complete a 12.7km run on an empty stomach. So I ended up stopping at McDonalds on my way to the run. Im sure I read somewhere that McDonalds was the breakfast of champions……
So fuelled with half a bacon and egg McMuffin I arrived at the Mindil Beach where the run was to start. It was only about 14 degrees and I was tired and freezing my arse off. Maybe I should just go home I thought. But I couldnt back out now and before I knew it, the starting gun had gone off and I was on my way. Now because Im not a runner I had already decided to walk the 12.7km course, so I was at the back with the mothers pushing their prams. I picked up my pace because I didnt want to come last. I had a burst of energy, Im not sure if it was the McDonalds, the excitement of being involved in a community event or the fact that I had a number pinned to the front of my shirt like a professional marathon runner. I picked up my pace and started overtaking some people. I passed the 1km sign and then the 2km sign. I was feeling GOOD! As I came up to the 3km sign, the serious runners were already making their way back. Bloody hell! Now I felt a bit useless and unfit. This also added serveral minutes to my time as I was distracted by the throngs of buff, shirtless bodies jogging past me. Hmm….maybe I should run a bit more often I thought to myself..
I hit East Point and was coming up to the public toilets. I needed to wee but didnt want to stop incase I got too far back, so I kept on going. Later on in the run, this would prove to be a bit of a problem. I think that busting for a wee was what eventually got me across the finish line. But I kept on going, trying not to think about it.
I kept on going, passing the 4, 5 and 6km signs. It was as if my legs had a life of their own. I dont think I would have been able to stop even if I wanted to. My legs just kept going and going. I passed the 8km sign and was still feeling good (except for the mounting pressure on my bladder). 9km, 10kms, I was getting closer and closer. I had no idea how long I had been walking for but knowing the end was in sight made me walk just that little bit faster.
Finally I could see it. The finish line! I thought that walking over the finish line was a bit weak so I started jogging. This made me realise that my legs were extremely sore. I hope I dont collapse in front of all these people I thought. That would be embarrassing. But my legs were all of a sudden feeling like jelly. As I got closer and people started cheering me on I picked up my pace a bit more (and the fact that I was now absolutely BURSTING to go to the toilet) and I jogged over the finish line. My god, I did it!!
I was feeling pretty stoked about my time of 2hrs and 2mins when the announcer told the crowd that a 70 year old woman did it in 1hr and 40mins. Great. I was beaten by a granny.
Now its the day after and Im so sore I can hardly move. I even had trouble putting on a pair of underwear because the muscles in my butt cheeks hurt so much. But nevertheless, I am intending on walking the 12.7km again next week with my backpack on to help me prepare for my trek.
Crazy? Just a little….
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