I signed up for Women Run Memphis. It was peer pressure. I’ve been running a bit. I have a friend that twisted my arm to get me to do it with her. Then my friend signed up for another faster group. I hate that.
I stepped out of my box, talked to a couple of people, grabbed my water bottle and took off. I’m in the second phase of the intermediate group. We meet at 6:30. The sun is still high in the sky and it is oppressively hot and humid. We run at least a mile and a whistle blows for a walk break. Before I can take a drink and dig my shorts out of my rear, the whistle blows again and we’re off. I must say I don’t like the stop and walk breaks. Starting again is too hard but there are trainers who are supposed to know what they are doing. They mentioned something about mitochondria before I went off in my own world that included things like all you can eat Huey’s cheeseburgers.
Last night we did a little over 3 miles. I hung with the middle of the pack. I didn’t pass out and I didn’t throw up. I did the last mile in fear that I might pee my pants. I guess that was better than feeling another urge. It was bad enough that I hit the port-a-potty before heading home. Nasty stuff I tell you. When 12,000 people try to drive out of Shelby Farms at the exact same time, it was a good thing I did. It was port-a-potty or one of Bria’s emergency pull ups. My aim is not that great. I’ll take the port-a-potty every time.
I’ll be doing my first 5K in Sept. I may earn the nickname Stinky before it’s over but I’m not the only one. It is Memphis in the summer after all. We all smelled like wet goats in heat by the time it was done. That’s the best way to make new friends and influence people.