Yes the race started at 9PM. It was damn dark.
I wore all kinds of silly glow sticks, glow glasses, glow bracelets, glow necklace. Yeah, I looked odd. But it was the glow race!
People were nice, shirt was good, race was well-organized.
OK, I am still not feeling it. The humidity was…wait for it…wait for it 80%! I repeat 80%.
There was a major uphill within the first 3/4 mile.
Did I run well?
In stretches, I ran well. I was moving really quick on the downhill. My start was fast but I faded badly after about 300 yards. Not great.
My finish was solid I sprinted the last 200 yards. Not a full sprint unfortunately.
I ran a 34:40. I know it sounds so slow to most of you.
My ranking was bad, I went from exactly inside the top third to almost exactly inside the top two-thirds from the last race to this one.
But this time, the competition included most of the best runners form the High School and Middle School.
I now weigh 234 pounds.
I have now lost 50 POUNDS!
And my run times are still blah.
Admittedly I was running 42-46 minute 5k’s, now I’m running 34-38. A 9:00 mile pace would keep me in the top third, even in a bigger more competitive race like this one.
I know, I promised you all 33:00 by the end of the summer.
And yes, 234 is no weight for a runner.
I look good in clothes. I can see about 4 of my six-pack.
My sexy moobs are diminishing into manly pectorals.
I am thinking that somewhere around 220 my body will still look good, but believe it or not it 220 is STILL 21 pounds into overweight on the BMI scale. At 6’2″.
I remember weighing 218 and having no visible body-fat. 199? WTF BMI scale?
I was about a mile in when I noticed two people had been running with me from the start. It was the Caribbean Queen from the writer’s workshop. She’s kind of a big girl, but athletic. About 5’10”.
“Hello, Mr. The Botendaddy. Ya seem to be stugglin’ man. We be come back soon now man, keep up the work. Your body looks pretty good, pretty good. I believe the time is right for us to get together, maybe when the race is over, you stop back at my apartment for a shower. Me glamity need you. I do ya clean. We tan poon it lang. But me a good girl, from a good family, don’t take advantage and do nothing nasty or I bun ya.”
I couldn’t believe that I could not pick up the pace. I was trying, but the minutes were slipping away from me. Why was I so much lighter and still had trouble? The only answer is as before. Body fat still too high and 234 is just not a runner’s weight. The CQ seemed to run effortlessly though. She was very strong.
“Mr. The Botendaddy. Respect ’cause you old. You silver fox. You silver devil. Ya do me good, man. I played college basketball and volleyball ya know. I’m a strong girl. I’m only 22 ya know. I come straight out of the Bachelor’s program and into the Master’s”
“CQ, why did you suddenly drop the over-done Jamaican slang and start speaking the King’s English?”
“Well, you know, I was an English major, right? I studied in Australia, you vapid idiot. What do you think I live in a hut and wear a bloody grass skirt? You had better live up to your reputation later. And don’t hurt me with that giant anaconda, I’m a relatively inexperienced girl and I won’t be bleeding well man-handled by the likes of you, mate.”
My mile time was OK, but worse than I expected. Under ten minutes, but not close to my fluke time of 8:48. Like when I ran the fluke 9:36 a while back, it took me a month or more to get under 10:00 consistently.
My two mile time was good, but disappointing. I came in at 21:05. probably due to the uphill start. I need a consistent sub 20:00 minute two mile to have a prayer at running below a 33:00 5k.
I missed a curb step-down in the dark and landed full on my bad knee. Just when it was healed again. Oh well, so goes running.
The other girl paced out of the gloaming and she spoke up.
“It’s me, the Voat-FPH girl.”
“I’m gonna warn ya one time.” Said the CQ “After that I’m gonna bun ya.”
“OK, I promised my therapist that I would stop saying hateful things to people. But Botendaddy, let’s be honest. You are still 5 pounds into obese. OBESE! For god’s sake. Obese is no way to run. Of course it’s hard. Too much weight, too much body fat.”
It was hard to pay attention as I jockeyed with a 17 year old boy, a ten year old girl and a 46 year old woman around the two mile mark.
“Botendaddy, your mid-range for the Overweight BMI designation is 214. Maybe, just maybe, if you can lose another 20 pounds and get to 214, you will really start to be able to run. Your body fat will be close to 20%. Your waist approaching the mid-30’s. 234 is better than 284, but it’s too much for a distance runner. Look at all these skinny sh!tlords! Now they are spindly weaklings compared to your ‘big-sexy’ muscularity, but you’ll have to weigh 194-199 to be a verified sh!tlord yourself.”
On the final lap, I hit it as hard as I could, but I was just tired. Yes it was a good finish, but not a true sprint. I need to be able to full sprint the last 600 yards to make up lost time. 34:40 was better than my 34:54 in Latrobe (pronounced Lay-Troab) last year, but just not good enough. I will just have to lose the next 20 to find out.
The Voat lady disappeared into the night, thank god. The CQ gave me a very long sweaty hug. She undulated her body against me. I almost had a heart attack. Both of us were soaked from the humidity. Her breasts were incredibly firm.
Peace be the Botendaddy