I’m the fucking granddaddy of awesomness, a hero amongst mortals. The very sight of me should bring tears to your eyes, and songs should be sung in my honor for all eternity.
For this weekend I fought bravely against demons and Lyme disease to run 6 punishing miles in the wilds of south jersey. Thirty-one thousand, six hundred and eighty feet of barren, tick-filled wasteland were covered in an astonishing 72 minutes. Three hundred and eighty thousand, one hundred and sixty inches of gritty, god-forsaken punishment were laid before me and ultimately conquered. The Pine Barrens bowed in the wake of my fury. I am victorious.
But seriously, guys, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I am the grand-fucking-master champion of the world. Do you have any idea how long 6 miles is?!? DO YOU?!? Imagine running straight into woods for a little more than 30 minutes – about the length of a sitcom on TV. Then, imagine turning around and having to run back out. This is what I did on Sunday. In the PINELANDS, people. Ever hear of the Jesey Devil? Lymes disease? PINEYS?!?!? This is where they all live:
Dangerous, to say the least.
For those of you who don’t know, this is a big deal because I am not a natural runner. I blogged about it here. Running for me was then and pretty much still is like slow death by fire-ants during a Jessica Simpson vs. Ashlee Simpson sibling tour. *shudder. BUT…I’ve always wanted to be a runner. So I started running late last summer with the intention of maybe, possibly, perhaps running a marathon this year.
Okay, you can stop laughing.
For those of you who don’t know, this is a big deal because I am not a natural runner. I blogged about it here. Running for me was then and pretty much still is like slow death by fire-ants during a Jessica Simpson vs. Ashlee Simpson sibling tour. *shudder. BUT…I’ve always wanted to be a runner. So I started running late last summer with the intention of maybe, possibly, perhaps running a marathon this year.
Okay, you can stop laughing.
Any time now.
No, it's okay, I'll wait
Needless to say, a marathon probably won’t happen this year, mostly because I couldn’t run over the winter (because treadmill running, I discovered, is the 8th level of hell), and therefore couldn’t train properly.
Because some pathetic individuals need a year to prepare.
Seriously, please stop laughing
But here we are today:
I just surpassed my personal record of 5 miles, set late last fall on a dark and stormy night (I was hardcore back then). And…I did it in a pretty respectable time. And AND…I haven’t been running regularly. My last run was a week ago, and it consisted of two miles in 20 minutes. Good, but not noteworthy in the least.
So this weekend’s accomplishment is all the more savory knowing that it was achieved WITHOUT training, per se. Which means that WITH training, I could perhaps double this mileage and then…and THEN…I might have a shot at a marathon.
Boo-yah.
But in the meantime, I’m sore as shit. I’m walking around the office looking like I have a pole up my ass, and my coworkers are probably getting the wrong impression about me and my weekend hobbies (I’ll let you use your imagination). Which means that tonight I’m going to have a hot date with Bengay and a heating pad, and there is nothing…NOTHING…sexier than smelling like an old person. All I need now is a snuggie and hair curlers and I could officially move in with my grandparents in LeisureTown (known as “God’s Waiting Room” to the local fire department).
So, Rocky? He ain't got NOTHIN' on this woman. Sure, he ran and punched and sweated his way to victory. But did he do while being covered in blood-sucking insects and being chased by a half-devil/half-man and a bunch of rednecks in wife-beaters?
So this weekend’s accomplishment is all the more savory knowing that it was achieved WITHOUT training, per se. Which means that WITH training, I could perhaps double this mileage and then…and THEN…I might have a shot at a marathon.
Boo-yah.
But in the meantime, I’m sore as shit. I’m walking around the office looking like I have a pole up my ass, and my coworkers are probably getting the wrong impression about me and my weekend hobbies (I’ll let you use your imagination). Which means that tonight I’m going to have a hot date with Bengay and a heating pad, and there is nothing…NOTHING…sexier than smelling like an old person. All I need now is a snuggie and hair curlers and I could officially move in with my grandparents in LeisureTown (known as “God’s Waiting Room” to the local fire department).
So, Rocky? He ain't got NOTHIN' on this woman. Sure, he ran and punched and sweated his way to victory. But did he do while being covered in blood-sucking insects and being chased by a half-devil/half-man and a bunch of rednecks in wife-beaters?
I think not, my friends.
I think not.
6 comments:
Damn, that is really f#*king impressive. I can't even run for 30 seconds, never mind minutes. My personal best is chasing a toddler who has decided it would be the most fun thing in the world to run into traffic. Adrenaline is god's gift to mothers of dare devil children.
I'm completely impressed! I barely manage to get to the gym for my weekly firm-up class. Make sure to check your crevices for ticks though. They like to hide out.
Did you ever know that your my hero? You're everything I would like to be! ... because you won't catch me out running.
I think it's so weird how it takes 24 hours to feel sore, also you never think about how awkward walking around is going to be.
colour me impressed! you rule. as a side note, Jersey? EWWWWW
The only time I ever run is when there's someone chasing after me on a bicycle shouting, "$2.00! I want my $2.00!"
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