It finally happened, boys and girls (mogulinas and mogulritas?….no, I don’t think so), my family finally got me to run. Last night, I ran the half-mile kids race (with my kids, duh) for the Just Us for Justice Run here in shiny Eau Claire. I don’t like to think I’m all that out of shape. I mean, I’m still at approximately the same weight as I was in high school (albeit with the weight redistributed and composed of more fat than muscle), but I was still rather concerned. I mean…I have a tendency to get winded from time to time just walking up and down the stairs in our house.
When I was told that I would be accompany my daughter, instead of my son on the run, I became slightly more concerned, as my wife told me that she had some speed on the one occasion they had run together for my wife’s regular runs.
In the end, I ran the half mile, actually felt pretty good during most of it because my daughter is incredibly slow, meaning I spent a majority of the time trying to convince her to run instead of walk, and I crossed the finish line without being completely out of breath…although my old-man body was definitely covered in sweat.
I felt pretty good about it. I mean, I’m still not thinking that I want to be a runner or anything, but I am starting to believe that I could get into doing the random race here or there…which, unfortunately, would probably mean that I should do some training or whatever, which, unfortunately, would run the risk of making me an actual runner….which means that maybe I should just keep to sitting behind my desk and writing about running, instead of the much more energy consuming alternative.
But, what I did find most interesting about the whole ordeal yesterday is how quickly my daughter was able to run through the gauntlet of standard race issues, even during the short little half mile jaunt. The start of the race was great. They said go and she bolted, full speed, tripping over herself as she flew forward toward the front of the line…nowhere near the front of the line, but toward it. However, around a minute later she already hit the wall. She just stopped running, went to a slow walk stating she needed to rest a bit. I mean, we were still well within view of the starting line and she was ready to catch her breath for a bit.
Of course, I’m still feeling the whole start of run excitement, feeling somewhat disappointed as I watch the pack leaders disappear off in the distance as my girl (who, for the record, had spent the hour before this race running around the playground like a mad-woman) decided she needed to take a breather. Luckily, my son and my wife were still in sight, so I could use them to egg her on. When I convinced her that they were gaining on us (which was a bold-faced lie as my son is usually slow, and even more so on this day for some reason…) she bolted forward again, only to resume the walk about a minute later… (this was a really long half mile, folks)
We continued like this for the majority of the race, interestingly enough, keeping with the same group of kids as we made our way…and my daughter was not the oldest by any means of the kids in our area. One pair, in fact, had about five years on her and were purely struggling.
But what I found most interesting about the whole thing was when she realized the end was near. Suddenly that whole struggle for willpower left her and she bolted. Sure, she could have probably gone faster, but her dedication to the cause returned and for probably an eighth of a mile, she stayed on target and ran to the end (which was by far the longest she had run at that point). And I say she ran, but she more like sprinted.
Until the actual finish line…
Where I was attempting to let her pass me and take first place (of our family).
And she slowed down to keep her place one step behind me.
To a stop.
Before the finish line.
All in all, I enjoyed my run, although I can’t imagine I’d be enjoying it all that much if it were more than a half mile…maybe I would.
I may even do it again.
Perhaps the Color Dash?
That’s only three miles, right?
Have fun out there!