Making plans

It’s been a while since I did a Sarahthon post, mainly because it’s been a while since I’ve gone for a run. Or walk.

I started experiencing sciatica within a week of the Shamrock 5K, which made walking and sitting a challenge. Inflammation, compression — it wasn’t pretty. So running has been out of the picture for a few weeks.

It’s a bummer, because I had hoped to run the Hospice 5K this morning. Alas, Pilates alone does not a runner make, and I want to allow my back to fully recover. Sad — it’s a beautiful day for a 5K, and probably the nicest one I would have had all season, before the humidity starts setting in.

Nevertheless, I’m feeling better, getting re-motivated, and am starting to plan out the next few months of runs and races.

The working list:

1. Civista 5K, LaPlata – May 17
2. Red Cross Out for Blood 5K, Baltimore – June 13
3. Injured Marines Semper Fi Fund Leatherneck 5K, Patuxent River – June 20

These are either local races (nos. 1 & 3) or ones I’ve run before and enjoyed immensely (no. 2).

As a matter of fact, you’ll be glad to know that I’m already signed up for the Leatherneck 5K. I’m excited about this one because the course is where I normally train on the road, so it’s one with which I’m intimately familiar: a flat, easy course, which should be nice one week after Out for Blood (hilly as all get-out) and a few days before I get on a plane. Although there is the potential for strong wind coming off of the Chesapeake Bay, one very long, straight bridge, and a sixty-five percent chance of stray golf balls. It should be fun!

Nevertheless, with my master’s program coming to an end — it’s safe to say I’m in the final stretch now and gearing up for the sprint to the finish! — I’m hopeful that I’ll be back on track just in time to start marathon training (again) in July.

In the meantime, I’ll be in the kitchen baking banana bread.

Shamrockity-ramrackety-ramalamadingdong

Sunday morning, we packed up and headed to Baltimore so that I could run the St. Patrick’s Day Shamrock 5K with Kelly. Adam ran too, but not with us. Way ahead of us, in fact.

The weather — let’s just say it was less than fair.

It was cold, the roads were wet, but thankfully it never went beyond a misting of rain. And the breeze was light. On the flip side, we were all feeling a little under the weather. Kelly had a horrible headache. I had a sinus pressurey/stomach thing going on, and Adam wasn’t feeling top-notch either.

Beware the Ides of March! Just thought I’d throw that in there.

Like last year, there were a little more than three thousand people there, of all ages, abilities, national heritages, and running attire.

Some had more character than others.

As we began lining up for the start, Kelly and I both felt our stomachs growl. We wished we had a banana to eat.

Then the Pretzel Man showed up. We couldn’t buy one though, and so we continued altering between huddled shivering and bouncing to keep our muscles warm until the race finally started.

And we’re off!

Once we really started downhill, there was a river of green-shirted runners, as far as the eye could see. From the back, that is.

Right around the end of our first mile, we saw the race leaders already in their final mile.

This was the first time the Run-o-Cam accompanied me in a race. He had a good time. As in “fun.” His time as in “run” was the same as mine, which was — well — less than “good.” But that’s okay.

Keith waited at the finish. He didn’t get photos of us because we were running too fast, the camera was too slow and his fingers were numb. He forgot his gloves.

He was grumpy for a little while. So we went to Uno’s.

From our table, we could see the end of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade route. I’m glad we were inside. It wasn’t a particularly exciting spectacle.

Except for this guy. He’s about to get swarmed by all these people. But he didn’t mind.

And anyway, there was ice cream.

I don’t know why

Generally, I like to run. Really, I do. I’d rather just go out for a run than try to control a soccer ball, or basketball, or volleyball, or football…you get the idea. Some days, I like running more than other days. Other days, running is practically the last thing on my list of Willing To Do, just below “clean toilets” and slightly above “jab eyeballs with pencil.” Nevertheless, in general, I like it.

But I am not, nor will I ever be one of those people for whom running is the Be All End All, Amen — the people who are all, “I’m addicted to running! I can’t start my day without a run!”, with their Runner’s World subscriptions and Active.com accounts.

Not that I have a problem with those people. Sure, I think some of them are a little psychotic, but like anyone else who’s willing do to or try something that I’m unwilling to do myself, I maintain a healthy respect for those hardcore runner-addicts. I understand the level of physical skill and mental determination it takes to run like that. And after sharing in the joy of a good, hard sprint at the end of a long run or across a finish line, I see where the addiction comes from — the euphoria of being better than yourself. And I get why they continue to pursue it.

It’s just not me.

This is what I think about when I’m on the treadmill, staring at the TV — Jeopardy! is on, but I don’t know if I’m getting the answers right because I’m nearsighted, and can’t read the closed captioning from that far away. Soon my vision gets blurrier from all the blood and adrenaline surging through my body, and I can’t read the questions either. So I start wondering what I’m doing there in the first place. I’m not really built for running long distances — like an effing marathon — and I’m not really into running for the sake of running. And look, it’s not even clearing my head. So what then? What am I doing? What the heck was I thinking, setting out on this quest?

It makes no sense, no sense at all.