Friday, November 29, 2013

A blog only a parent could finish.


Just like everyone else in the world, I’m starting a blog.

Just like everyone else in the world, I plan to write at least once a week.

Just like everyone else in the world, I will eventually fail.

            Now that we have that out of the way, what do I want to talk about? There have been so many thing happening in my life that I could blog about.  I just hosted my 1st thanksgiving dinner at my house with my wonderful fiancé and her daughter, soon to be my stepdaughter.  I could talk about helping raise an extremely bright (I know everyone says that, but mines true) two year old.  I could talk about the meetings I’ve go to in trying to get a modified product patent.  I could talk about being unemployed “in this economy”.  I could just continue talking about what I could talk about…

            Well I’m and athlete, so of course I want to talk about that.  What does the word athlete mean to me?  It means I greatly enjoy using my physical abilities and testing them against like minded others.  I was a runner in high school.  I didn’t apply myself, so I was merely an above average runner.  I pretty much quit doing anything athletic from the end of my senior year of high school till I hit the ripe old age of 25.  I had pretty much been the same 6’4” 195lb guy that whole time, but then I stepped on the scale and it read 220… I was in the final months of a “wrong for me” relationship, and it showed.  So I did what anyone who has put on a few extra pounds does when they want to get rid of it, I went to the track to run.  Now remember the last time I had run was when I was young(er), fit and fast, so I jumped on the track and started to stride like I still was.  It 10 meters at 6min mile pace quickly turned into 20 at 7, then 50 at 8…  I barely made one lap around the track in under 3:30 (just over 10min mile pace).  I was thoroughly destroyed, both physically and mentally.  So I did what every person who is over weight and just hit a big hurtle does.  I quit.  A few months later I got a bike, cancelled my car insurance, and started commuting 3 miles (each way) to work.  It also happened to be a fixed gear, with no breaks.  With the one gear, I would kick my ass two and from work, each slight incline like a mountain to summit.  It only took me a month or two to realize that I was quickly getting in better shape.  I felt better and decided to try running again.

One of my friends kind of challenged me, and said I couldn’t run a half marathon, so I of course accepted, only to find out the one I had agreed to run was 2 weeks away.  So I kind of trained, and by the end of the 1st week put in a 10 miler at a slow pace, with a few shorter runs in between.  So the day came, and I ran.  I finished, but at a cost.  I wore my trail running shoes with big tread, and got huge blisters on the pads of my feet.  I also had a mortifying last 3 miles.  I had been running strong and fast, too fast, up until that point, and I emptied the tank… I hit the wall.  All of a sudden I was going a mile an hour and everyone around me was going a mile a minute.  I look up to see a couple of fans staring at me doing a slow clap, and I swear they were talking in slow-mo yelling to me and only me, pointing me out in the sea of sprinters as the lone jogger.  “You can do it man!”, “Your all most there!”, “Just a little further!”.  It took me forever to get past them.  I don’t know if my embarrassment gave me a second wind or what, but I did eventually finish, and like the criminal who hadn’t paid for the organized event I had poached, I stepped into the crowed mere feet from where all the finishers were getting there pats on the back, and reward chocolate milk.  I wanted that milk, and I vowed one day to be one of those that got it!  No I didn’t really care; I just wanted to get home.  So I headed to my car, only to find I had left the lights on, so it was dead…  A few of the most excruciating pushing steps of my life later, and I got my car going and headed home.

After that race, I have run countless others; many 5ks a few 10ks, a smattering of 15ks, a handful of half marathons, 2 marathons, and one Olympic distance triathlon.  Due to a reoccurring injury in my right ankle, I pretty much retired from running, and joined the biking circuit.  I may not be as good of a biker as I was a runner, but I really like it, and I’m getting better.

Well for now, I guess that’s my 1st blog… and I’m proud of myself, even if it’s a blog that only a parent could finish.  Hopefully I think of something better to write about next that gets people all fired up, and I can get some discourse in the comments.

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