First of all, those girls – the ones up there ^ – are in no way old. But they are training for a 10K. Along with me. Who is in every way old. See how they run – with focus, with intention, with grace, with verve. See how I
run walk – with a limp, with copious sweat, with curmudgeonly attitude. Who would you rather see in glorious color on your screen? Hmm. Rude.
Whatevs, it’s all cool cool. I like being old. And a curmudgeon. Gotta own what you live, yo. I also like walking. And “races”. I finger quote that word because i am definitely the tortoise type participant. I’m going to get there and it’s going to take me a while. My girls do their running thing and I applaud and celebrate their super awesomeness. There’s at least 15 years between us so I feel pretty good about just being in the game. Not that there aren’t plenty of older badass, fit as they get peeps out there. I’m just not one of them and I’m super cool with that.
Up until now the races we’ve done have been 5K’s, but we all decided to do the 10K version of Run Like Hell 2014 in Portland this time. I’m fairly certain I could walk a 10K without training for it. But I’m also fairly certain my bad hip, my wonky knee, my sciatica, my early onset dementia(no)(yes)(no) would probably make me pay hardcore afterward. And it’s really motivating, and fun(yes, really) to have set small goals and reach them. Especially when you have a fitgirl/fitfam posse to roll with. I am so motherfreaking lucky to have a mini-tribe of fristers that think it’s fun to be active and out there pushing ourselves.
These races have become my “going out”. I am too damn old with a a too damn young kid who wakes up too damn early and is too damn loud to be boozing anymore. I also met my quota for altering my mind long ago. But getting out there with thousands of other people who are there to be active and have fun doing it is pretty awesome. Sometimes we’re dressed in costumes, sometimes we’re wading through bogs of colored foam, sometimes we’re on a forced death march in the dark, cold and wet from the neon liquid that was far more liquid than neon. OK, that last one was not so much fun, but, for the most part, people are happy and excited to be a part of the hive mind and there’s a communal feeling of goodwill toward men. And women. Also, children. And most likely the more benevolent creatures from the animal kingdom. I don’t remember much of that from my actual going out days. I do remember a lot of nausea, lost clothing items and regret.
One of my frister’s son’s aunt(they’re from Idaho, do the math) is a badass goddess of running. She’s become an inspirational running guru for our mini-tribe. Holla. She even made the following training plan for another frister who will be running the 10K. Like, the entire way. She dope. She Hope.
I saw the plan and pilfered it to use as my very own. I call it my precious. This is how I, Wonderishmama, am also getting my groove on in an awesomesauce manner. Feel free to pilfer it yourself and groove awesomely. I’ll buy you a beer at the finish line. Or a Cinnastack at IHOP because we may run/walk, but we also eat. Let’s be real.