Rat Race

I ran a race on Saturday, a local 5k. Have I been training, you ask? No, indeed I have not. I ran last week maybe twice, and before that I think I ran in April once, and then before that it's been cold, so hell no (I'm a wuss when it comes to cold, because I have no personal heating skillz at all). It was nice to run again, and even though I am very much at the back of the pack I enjoy the racing competitive feelings, like "Move over, amputee, I'm probably going to pass you in like the next 3 minutes or so." One thing I hate, though, is those fucknuggets who walk, then run, then walk, then run. Mostly I hate that I am next to them throughout the race even though that is their strategy. It hurts, man, that someone who is walking part of the race is totally within the zone of being able to beat me.

I had a hard time finding my stride, which is always my problem in races, actually in life too sometimes. It is hard for me to be in that large pack with everyone starting out fast without just going along. So this time I started out really slowly, trying to oppose the tide of speed racers, and ended up running the first two miles way too slow, which is actually as tiring as running too fast because it burns your legs like hell. I couldn't figure out why I was sucking wind so bad until kind of a long slow downhill at mile 2 where I finally relaxed and hit my (extremely awesome) stride. Then I passed all those walking douche muffins and finished strong, probably just annihilated all the elderly/stroller pushers/young children with short legs. 

You will be seeing more of me, totally killing the middle of the pack at small unimportant races.