So I ran a 5k yesterday.
I woke up at 9am, had myself a good breakfast, half a protein bar, and 2 litres of water. At 10am I found myself hitting the bathroom for the fifth time. At 12pm I was still regularly and consistently needing bathroom breaks. I wondered if I would have to stop along the run and where I would be able to stop without anyone noticing. Having planned that out, I headed to a friend’s to fill out our required forms for the race.
It was cold. Windy and miserable, but thankfully no rain (it held off until about an hour after the race). Standing around waiting for the thing to start was almost painful. My stomach was in knots and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. It was just a fun run, I had have nothing to prove, it was going to be just me and the ground. Anyhow, we all got registered, found our respective maps and took a look. Ah. During all of our practice runs we went out to the park to run on the grass trail and the gravel road. This run was to be on the streets and sidewalks of the city. All of it. Not even a centimeter was on grass or gravel. What a huge difference it made!
I wanted to stop about 30 times. I found many reasons; I needed to pee, my knee hurt, my foot hurt, I couldn’t feel my legs. At one point I ran darn near right past my house. Oh, you wouldn’t believe how tempted I was to scoot across the street and give up. By the 35 minute mark, I was limping and dragging, praying my feet would take me to the end. They did.
I went home. Drank some more water. Took a warm bath (is that the right thing to do when your shins hurt so much you can hardly touch them without feeling mucho pain?). Had a nap. Ate an enormous supper. Good times!
So this morning I get to work and there’s a text message on my phone “upcoming hospital foundation 5k run this saturday – you in?” or some such nonsense. Complete dither. I can hardly walk; everything hurts. But yeah, okay, why not?