A half-what?!: Prep time
The following is the second in a series of posts that chronicle Kyle’s training for the Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon in Raleigh, NC. Will he stick with it? Will he fail miserably for the amusement of all who read? Will he jump on stage and smash a guitar, eight miles into the race and be arrested? Will he leave it all-including his breakfast-out on the beautiful streets of downtown Raleigh and finish? Read on to find out.
The day had changed dramatically in a very short period of time. I had already clicked send and the email was off. There was no turning back now. It was prep time.
For some reason I felt butterflies in my stomach, like there was some kind of dramatic anticipation of all that I was about to embark on. Or maybe just foreshadowing of the nausea that was almost certainly going to hit about a quarter mile into my first run later that day.
I pulled up the training schedule. Hah, see that, I had a training scheduled. I looked down at my anxiously fluttering stomach. I needed one.
It was Thursday, three miles. This is the point where false confidence sets in. The point where the pragmatic realist and the anxious optimist stand on either shoulder and fight it out like the Bad Girls Club. They collide dead center in your head and you sit back and listen to the whole thing go down.
Do you really think that after a multi-year workout sabbatical, you are going to be able to just step out the door and run three miles? …Honestly?
You’ve got to start somewhere though, and you aren’t going to make it to a half-marathon without pushing yourself. Come-on, your already almost a week behind on the training. Man up.
Push yourself?! Listen, if you make it half of those three miles, someone is going to be pushing you on a stretcher.
And so on.
After much thought, I resolved to go for it. Three miles. It even sounded stupid. Now, for you marathoners and avid runners out there, this might sound like peanuts to you. But bear with me here folks. This is coming from a guy who really hasn’t been in shape since about half way through college-and just how fit he was then is debatable.
With the question of distance resolved, next step was to determine exactly where the hell I had to go to make it that far. I guess I never really figured I’d have to deal with this problem so I didn’t even know where to start.
My brother suggested mapmyrun.com. I started there. Once I had dredged my way through the muddied mess of ads on the site, and created an account for myself, I began the process of not knowing what the hell I was doing. I set my starting point at my house and went looking for where I select my distance (a stunning 3 miles) so that the site would conveniently plot my run for me. Wrong. I called my brother. Turns out you have to click your way around the map to set your own route, and it just tracks the distance. Figures, the running website won’t let you be lazy. An hour later I had a perfect three mile loop around my neighborhood that started and ended at my driveway. I was as ready as I’d ever be.
I remember thinking to myself that day that for the first time in my life I was actually excited about running. I was looking forward to it. I had a lot of reasons not to. An arctic front had been whipping through the south bringing uncharacteristically frigid temperatures to Raleigh. Each morning that week it had been in the low 20’s driving into work. The wind had been kicking up all day, and all signs pointed to this being a seriously cold outing. I didn’t let myself think about it.
I plunged through my work to make sure I wouldn’t get caught up late at the office. I wanted to get started running as early as possible.
The phone rang. It was my boss. Impromptu meeting. Awesome. It was the kind of meeting that gets everyone called in at the last second cause the big guy’s got a problem that he doesn’t even know where to start with, and in the long run the meeting never really gets started, and seems like it will never end.
It was pitch black and freezing by the time I got home.
I told my wife about the day’s revelation. She already knew. Jess, our sister-in-law had called her and gave her all of the details. I think she knew more about the story than I did. Word travels fast in my family.
My wife was excited in the way that I guess all wives are excited when their husbands resolve to get in shape. She disagreed with my assessment of how far to run though.
“Maybe you should start with a mile honey.”
She smirked. Smirked! How dare she question my commitment to this grand cause before I’d even run a step. I’d show her.
“Go big or go home, baby. I’m going big.”
She chuckled a bit and tried to hide it. “See you when you get home.”
Check back soon for more installments of Kyle’s illustrious half-marathon training. Assuming he does not hyperventilate and die mid-training, this series will monitor Kyle’s torturous journey right up to the Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon on March 27, 2010. Stay tuned.
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