Drum Roll please.............................................................................
The Ogden Half Marathon is full!
And I haven't yet signed up!
WOO-HOO!I knew if I was ambivalent long enough (about participating) I may get lucky. Even better than not feeling the pressure to find time to train adequately each week is to know that since I
can't participate I can work out (or not work out) at my leisure.
(Is that an oxymoron?)
That didn't stop me from feeling overwhelmingly discouraged by this morning's series of events, however. It's like the Karmic Universe is now conspiring against me since I have proven to be spineless in the face of a physical challenge (a reference to the fact that I
did not participate in the Ogden 2007 full marathon).
Bonus Points:
If you caught me taking full responsibility
I ate well yesterday and went to bed early last night in preparation for a six-miler this morning. Since the weather is good and due to the fact L worked a graveyard I'd be running outside pushing Hippo. I strategically ate this morning in addition to getting Hippo up and fed allowing myself just enough time to run the course and get home before he got too hungry to manage himself.
Doesn't it sound like I was dedicated?
I knew the jogging stroller had one bum tire and L, before getting into bed told me he has this goo stuff I can use to seal up the tire and so I won't have to constantly stop and pump it up, like I had to last Saturday on the four-miler.
I got myself dressed in my outside cold weather running get-up, got Hippo in his warm outfit, loaded him into the stroller, grabbed my IPOD off the charger, put on my Spy glasses, and off we...
did not go.
I couldn't figure out the goo instructions. I'm no genius, and the goo is meant to be used by Mensa Society members only, apparently.
I decided, in my dedication, I would just stop periodically and pump. No biggie, really. Plus, it would give me a chance to take breaks that otherwise I can't justify. And off we finally went.
About a mile and a half later not just the one tire, but two tires needed to be pumped. I began the process but I could hear that the air wasn't being delivered to the tire and was escaping into the greater ozone. A bad seal on the air spout? I pulled off the pump connector and much to my dismay, the hose disconnected from the connector (which remained on the air spout). IT BROKE! THE PUMP BROKE! And there I was, with Hippo, only 1/6th of the way through the course, but pretty far from home still, with two (of three) flat jogging stroller tires and a broken tire pump.
At first I laughed a little, thinking about how much trouble I had already gone through to get to this point.
***A moment to add an important tidbit to why I was so motivated even though I will not be running a half marathon in May afterall. At book club Tuesday night, my marathon training partner informed me that she ran a six-miler last Saturday (while I was considering calling 9-1-1 on my four-miler). The kicker: she had a baby six weeks ago. This was discouraging/motivating since I had a baby six months, times two, ago. When she saw that I was discouraged she said, "It wasn't a fast six." to make me feel better. She's sweet like that, but it didn't make me feel ANY better.***
As circumstances would have it, it was a good thing I was standing across the street from a retail giant!
On the other hand, I had no money or credit cards.
I stood there seriously considering employing the bumming-money-off-of-poor-suckers-skills I have learned from addicts:
"I've run out of gas and I have to get to Salt Lake City for my brother's funeral/graduation/birthday by noon."
Or
"I'm from Wyoming and my car broke down and can't be fixed until Monday, please spare some money for a hotel."
Or
"My wallet/purse was just stolen and I can't pay for the groceries for my poor little children."
Or
"Just a few dollars for my starving dog?"
Realizing I have a conscience, I went with plan B. Slowly pushing (i.e. walking) Hippo and the stroller home and with each step, to the lopsided sound of
thump-thump, I got more and more frustrated.
I had really, really tried.
By the time I rounded the corner, for the final stretch, I had two ideas to spare my workout: I could jump in the car and finish the last three miles on the treadmill at the gym OR I could call on my in-laws to watch Hippo while I ran the final three miles in the neighborhood. Darting inside I grabbed the flier with the gym's daycare hours listed: Saturdays--8:45 am to 11:30 am. Drat, it was 11:02 am--and let's just say I run a longer mile than a ten minute one.
So I grabbed Hippo out of the stroller and ran over to the in-laws (that's right, they live next door...you can save the "Everybody Loves Raymond" jokes) and knocked. No answer. I did the unforgivable. I walked right in.
Don't worry, no one was naked this time (If you really want that story I'll blog about it some other time).
No one was home. There are four willing babysitters over there and not one was home. NOT ONE.
By that time my heart rate was back to normal and I threw in the towel.
Maybe I should've committed to the half.