Today I had track practice for the first time. Our team is very small--we have one very fast runner, two long-distance runners, one average runner, one sprinter, and me. I would describe myself as a runner wanna-be...
I was so excited about track. Overall I am pretty healthy, but I know I don't get enough exercise, and I thought track would be a great way to get it. I am not very fast and I can't run for very long--this lack of speed and endurance would classify me as a wimp--but I have a good attitude! I'm looking forward to building speed and endurance, and being able to really run and feel confident calling myself a runner. I'm not there yet, but I'm ok with not being there because I'm working my way toward it. Anyway, track was today...
I pull back my curls in a ponytail and tightly lace my shoes, so ready for action. Coach King gives instructions for a two-mile warmup.
A two-mile warmup?!!
I am the girl that only runs two miles. One time in my life I ran 3.1, but other than that I always stop after 2. Two miles, I think, I can handle this.
What I'm worried about is what happens after the warm-up.
So we set out for two miles. I quickly fall behind, knowing I'll have to pace myself more slowly than my typical speed (Speed? I mean slowness) due to a cold/cough I'm fighting. This reduces my speed, or lack of it, to slow. Or from a runner's perspective, slower than slow. Therefore, my falling behind so quickly is no surprise at all to me. Andrew calls back over his shoulder, "You ok?" I shout, "I'm good!" as I push to keep up, realizing that this is going to be a very loooong two miles.
Needless to say, everyone speeds far ahead of me. I really don't mind--I know I'm slow and I don't want to hold them back. I'll get there eventually.
Some of them are halfway finished with mile 2 as I'm just starting it. I don't think I'm doing too badly. A medium-sized brown and white dog watches as Jordan flies past, faster than the speed of sound, leading the parade like a red Corvette. The other guys zoom past in a group like the top marching band, going strong and steady, and I bring up the rear in a major way as I putt-putt down the street like a little motor scooter with tassels on the handlebars. I'm thinking, how now, brown cow? I am slooow today, but I'll get there eventually. And when I parade past, the brown dog gets excited and decides to come growl at me. Unsure of how to handle this situation, I keep going. The dog doesn't like that and pretends to bite me, sort of testing me with his teeth, trying to intimidate me I suppose--but in reality not harming me at all.
Quite indignant and frustrated, I ponder the meaning of life, sunburns, running, sunshine, sunburns, why people can't properly secure their animals, sunglasses, sunburns, muscle effort, sunburns, and whether or not the dog will come back and chew me up. Is it wimpy to get chewed by such a small dog? Is it ok to kick a dog if he makes your leg bleed and sends you to the doctor? I don't want to make anybody mad, but if he won't listen to me and I don't kick him, what can I do to defend myself? Thankfully, I don't have to make that choice because the dog doesn't bother me this time around. Nevertheless, I aim a forceful NO! in the dog's direction as a precautionary measure.
I drag in for the finish, frustrated and warm, redder than a tomato. Of all things! For Pete's sake! I have a cold, I can't breathe very well now so I'm running slooooow, I forgot to wear my sunscreen, my face is burning and my legs are on fire, the dogs think I'm a chew toy, and this was only the warm-up.
Coach Machin suggests that I stretch out and catch my breath. Gratefully, I stretch out and realize that running two miles is a great way, albeit a slightly uncomfortable one, to warm up my muscles. I finish, not sorry for having missed out on the step-ups and jumps the guys did while I was still out, and we run 2 100-meter dashes. I'm not the only tired one now. We are done for the day, and I walk into school gasping, sweaty, and bright red from combined effort and sunshine. If I was in a redness contest with a tomato, I would totally win. By now, though, I feel great. I did it! I survived! I ran track, woohoo!
I made it, sweaty, sunburned, and triumphant! Next time, I will be able to breathe, I will remember my sunscreen, and I will be faster and stronger for my work today.
And I'm still excited about track...
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