Parlor Spider...Step In, Little Fly

Insightful thoughts and/or rants from atop the soapbox from one who wishes to share the "right" opinion with everyone.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Tempus Fugit

I know what I wanted out of the day. I had no expectations of grandeur or even mild surprise. The body is capable of some amazing things, but I knew mine was not going to pull off any surprises; and I was right. Looking back, I wonder if there wasn't just a tinge of disappointment even though there was no reason for it. My mind would simply not let go of its tenuous hold on irrationality.
I "ran" a 5K race this past weekend as something of a corollary to a running class offered by the university. During the week, I attend Coach Kline's running class whenever I do not have an appointment with a student; I run with the slower students, giving encouragement and tidbits of what might pass for running knowledge. They enjoy it, and I get some casual exercise...staying in the back yet secretly "knowing" that I could run up front with the faster students...there's just no need to prove it (he said as others winked and nodded knowingly).
So, when the fundraiser for the cross country team came up, I convinced a group of students to participate by saying I'd hang back in the back with them until they felt strong enough to move up: a great plan, I thought. What I did not consider was the years of inbred attitude training I'd done. Physically? No way could I expect to race, particularly after "training" at such a slow pace.
On race day, I was relieved to feel no nervous tension; I didn't warm up other than stretching, I didn't do the customary wind sprints to ready my every nerve for explosive action, and I started in the back with a few students who'd never raced before, after the customary five trips to the bathroom!
Eventually, most of the other students left two of us behind as they sought a more competitive atmosphere, and I was comfortable with the idea. Seeing little kids and other people ahead of me that I would have destroyed "back in the day" didn't bother me, and my partner for the day who was running in a race for the first time and I made steady progress, passing a few people and never getting passed (the benefit of starting dead last!). The hills were small though they felt a lot bigger. Our splits were very even for the entire race, averaging just about what we had planned my partner could run; the whole thing was uneventful in spite of the fact that my breathing was a bit irregular due to absolutely no real training at all...until...
We were about 50m from the finish line, running smoothly with no real idea of a frantic finish to place 130th instead of 131st. Just to the side of the path stood a runner who had finished already, and he said to someone eveidently close to us, "Come on. You can take them!" End of normalcy; I was determined that anyone who was behind us would finish in that position so I immediately picked up the pace--not the embarrassing sprint of the last-place finisher--but the acceleration barely noticed by casual onlookers. Of course, about this time, my right calf muscle created a nuisance by screaming with pain (for all the good it did). Look back? Never! Some things just aren't done.
Result? A painful muscle for a couple of days, a finish time at least ten minutes off my personal best, and the small satisfactions of seeing a kid enjoy the first race...and not getting passed in a stretch kick. Some things are everlasting, no matter how much we think they are gone forever.
Thomas Wolfe would simply shake his head as if to say, "Hey, idiot! I said you could never go home again." I know, I know, but it IS somewhat sad.

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