Boogity boogity boogity!

We’re goin’ racin’! Well, running actually. Weeell, more like jogging to be honest. Fine, plodding along like Mudman if you really want to get specific about it.

In addition to the chili cook-off that was held Thursday, there was also a 5K Reindeer Race through downtown as well. And that is to mean that you run for 5 kilometers, not that there were 5,000 reindeer running through downtown Statesboro. Although, that’d be frickin sweet.

Anyhoo, there was a 5k race, and I didn’t run in it. I didn’t feel really prepared for it since I only found out about it the week before and I hadn’t done as much running as I’d liked due to work and other crapola. That, and I wanted to concentrate on my chili eating. Let nothing get in the way of my chili eating. Unless it’s my beer drinking.

But I did find out about several other 5K races in and around the ‘Boro in the next couple of months. And I’ve gone ahead and made the partially serious commitment to myself to run in them, or at least some of them. And by “partially serious commitment”, I mean that I put them on my calendar. That’s about the extent of it. The making of a rock-solid commitment would require me registering for them and also paying the registration fee. Which every time I think about paying them, I hear Chris’ voice in my head saying “Why the fuck would you pay to run? That’s fucking clown shoes.” (Yes, in my head Chris likes to use the term “clown shoes” as often as he can.)

And that’s pretty much one of the biggest things keeping me from making the commitment. No, not hearing Chris say “That’s fucking clown shoes” , it’s the paying thing. And what exactly am I paying for? Mostly a t-shirt. And some free Gatorade. Oh, and that little piece of paper that’ll have my number on it so they can identify my body when they find it on the side of the road several hours later. Hell, I can make my own t-shirt (“The 1st Annual SBDA 5K Plod & Hurl!”), and just run until I pass out in an area where someone that finds me will know to wake me up by pouring beer on me.

But I’ve always wanted to run one. Not to win it, because there’s absolutely no way in Hades that I could. But just to run and finish it and to say “You know what? I did that. Fuck yeah!” Kinda like after banging a hot girl. And ironically I would have to call Chris after both.

So, right now I’m at the “partially serious” phase, and I’ll see where I stand (financially and conditioning) after a couple of weeks of running. Then I’ll be in a better position to gage if I can really go and test myself and how much of an ass I’ll make of myself in the process.

D

Update:
After discovering that 5K isn't as far as I thought (I was thinking 4 miles instead of the 3.2 that it is), I realized that I currently run farther than that when I go now. But, being the massive fan of hyperbole that I am, I refuse to go back and change anything in this post.