Monday, May 26, 2008

The Accidental 5K- by Brooke

I have to exercise in the morning before my brain figures out what I'm doing. ~Marsha Doble

I am NOT a runner. Anyone who knows me, knows that. I am a team-player though, so I decided to show up at our second-annual Spring Scramble, a 5K walk/run hosted by the Pediatrics residency progra
m to benefit our Primary Care Clinic's "Reach Out and Read" program. I had worked late in the ER (until 1AM), but since my friend Amanda had been in charge of the race and had been majorly stressing out about no one coming, I figured I'd go and get a good little walk in and do a good deed for the day at the same time. So I pay my entrance fee, expertly pin my little number (159) to my t-shirt (a skill that I've perfected by pinning many a bike race number on Ron's jerseys), and get in the back of the pack at the starting line. My friend Mary Halsey had told me that she'd walk with me, but at the last minute got recruited to sit at the start-finish to help record finishing numbers or something, so I was on my own. I deliberately get in the back of the pack so as not to get flattened by all the crazy real runners wearing their sports bras and short shorts- the kind with the built in underwear- I lined up with the mommies with strollers, and even one guy with his two kindergarteners in a mega-double stroller... Amanda shot off the little start gun, and all of a sudden, I'm in the middle of pandemonium... everybody is running...stroller people and all! So I had no choice... it was run, or be run over! The course started by running around this shopping center before going on an actual jogging trail; I made it all the way around the mall and then passed my girlfriends at the start line...they about fell over when they saw me running (truly a hysterical sight!), and were yelling, "Look, Brooke's running!!". What?!? I wasn't running like Phoebe or anything! Though winded, I thought I looked about like all the other runners... Guess I need some panty-shorts.
Anyway, of course I didn't get very far before having to slow it down to a brisk walk. It was less embarrassing than puking would have been. I walked a bit, I ran a bit, then walked some more. There was a little feed zone (see, I even know the terminology!) at the turn around, but what I didn't know was that what you should really do with that little Dixie cup of water is to dump it on your head or at very most, swish around your dry mouth with it, not- gasp- actually drink the two whole swallows- because, as I found, after imbibing in just that teensy bit of wet stuff, you REALLY feel like you are gonna puke! I somehow managed not to though, and finally crossed the finish line (far from last might I add) with a time of 45 minutes and some-odd seconds. As silly as it was, I was proud of myself. Can't say that I really enjoyed myself, but I may make a goal to do another one, and run more of it this time. Maybe. I do appreciate the humor in the situation though, and so does Ron; he almost fell off his bike when I called and told him, and has laughed at me all weekend.

And yes, I am exceedingly sore.