For 3 different reasons, I registered for and ran the BE1! Inaugural Cross Country 5K and Fun Run.
1. Liz volunteers for BE1!
2.The events proceeds went to Big Brother Big Sister of Kansas City (still waiting on getting my little sister, but, I feel really connected to the organization now!).
3. Motivation to keep up with my running.
After running (mostly) a half marathon (13.1 miles) last month, I figured a 5K (3.1 miles) would be a fucking walk in the park.
However, I didn’t realize that it would LITERALLY be a run in the fucking park. I failed to comprehend that the “cross country” portion of “Cross Country 5K” probably meant NOT running on a road or a paved trail of some sort, but rather it did indeed mean the most plain (the pun coming up was intended) definition of cross country; in the grass.
The runners (maybe 40 or 50 total) were instructed to march out to the starting line across a vast field in Swope Park. “Follow the white paint line, it marks the course. Make 2 laps” were the instructions. “Everybody line up and we’ll get started”
“What if the morning dew makes the grass slick and I slip and fall?”
“What if I don’t see the hidden and hazardous holes and bumps in the ground and twist my ankle?”
“What if I step in poop?"
No time to ask these questions, the air horn rang out and we all shot off in a dash.
1. Liz volunteers for BE1!
2.The events proceeds went to Big Brother Big Sister of Kansas City (still waiting on getting my little sister, but, I feel really connected to the organization now!).
3. Motivation to keep up with my running.
After running (mostly) a half marathon (13.1 miles) last month, I figured a 5K (3.1 miles) would be a fucking walk in the park.
However, I didn’t realize that it would LITERALLY be a run in the fucking park. I failed to comprehend that the “cross country” portion of “Cross Country 5K” probably meant NOT running on a road or a paved trail of some sort, but rather it did indeed mean the most plain (the pun coming up was intended) definition of cross country; in the grass.
The runners (maybe 40 or 50 total) were instructed to march out to the starting line across a vast field in Swope Park. “Follow the white paint line, it marks the course. Make 2 laps” were the instructions. “Everybody line up and we’ll get started”
“What if the morning dew makes the grass slick and I slip and fall?”
“What if I don’t see the hidden and hazardous holes and bumps in the ground and twist my ankle?”
“What if I step in poop?"
No time to ask these questions, the air horn rang out and we all shot off in a dash.
Some in a faster dash than others.
OMG. If we had been a herd of gazelles or antelopes and we, as a pack, were running to avert a huge, hungry lion… I would have been the poor gazelle or antelope that valiantly runs as fast as her little legs would carry her, but the rest of the group are just faster, better, stronger so she is out ran by the herd, and quickly so.*
But LUCKILY, I am neither a gazelle nor am I an antelope. If god had wanted me bounding across a field he would have made me one. Therefore I can, with a fair amount of conviction, state that I will NEVER be running a cross country race EVER AGAIN.
I toughed it out and finished, and I wasn’t even last! So, some other poor, fat schmuck would have been lion food. Survival of the fittest, bitches.
OMG. If we had been a herd of gazelles or antelopes and we, as a pack, were running to avert a huge, hungry lion… I would have been the poor gazelle or antelope that valiantly runs as fast as her little legs would carry her, but the rest of the group are just faster, better, stronger so she is out ran by the herd, and quickly so.*
But LUCKILY, I am neither a gazelle nor am I an antelope. If god had wanted me bounding across a field he would have made me one. Therefore I can, with a fair amount of conviction, state that I will NEVER be running a cross country race EVER AGAIN.
I toughed it out and finished, and I wasn’t even last! So, some other poor, fat schmuck would have been lion food. Survival of the fittest, bitches.
*The unfortunate play out of this scene is that then the lion catches up. And because I am the slowest (and juiciest looking, might I add) gazelle or antelope, the lioness pounces on my back, sinks her razor sharp claws into my rear haunches and drags me down for the kill.
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