My life outside of family and work is consumed with two things right now: Running and Writing. One I love and the other I loathe. One is good for the body and the other is good for the soul. Or maybe they’re both good for both. I don’t know. Who am I kidding? I haven’t done enough writing lately and it seems to me like I’ve done entirely too much running.
My wife took up running as a hobby. And sometimes when our wives get a new hobby, we get a new hobby. Like it or not. If I were the suspicious kind I may concoct a not entirely implausible theory that this hobby is an attempt at killing me. Nothing sounds as much like inconspicuous homicide quite like making a fat man run in 90 degree heat. And that was just my first race, a 5K.
My second race would have been a devious ploy to kill me via pneumonia due to the cold temperatures and rain or malaria due to the mosquitos swarming around the starting line but I survived these conditions. In light of that fact my wife was forced to return to plan A with small revisions, of course. She found a hotter day to run on. Race 3 was something like 95 degrees with ridiculous humidity.
As much as I’m complaining though I should mention that these attempts on my life have taught me a few important things. First, fat men will sometimes chaff when they run and they sell a product that works remarkably well to avoid that. Two, a pre-race meal should never contain feta cheese. Ever. Even if this meal is six hours before the race starts. Third, there are only a precious few reasons for running in 90+ degree heat and absolutely none of them include a t-shirt and a running bib.
Since my wife’s attempts at killing me have thus far been unsuccessful she decided to collaborate with my aunt.
“Don’t run the 8K you planned to run,” my aunt says. “Run the 10 mile.”
I’ve unofficially run an 8k before. That’s just shy of 5 miles, correct? I should run 10 miles. That seems logical to you too, right?
“Sounds great,” my wife says.
And at some point in all of this I stood outside my own body and marveled at my inability to strangle myself when I agreed to run it as well.
You may think that that would be the end of it but my wife isn’t one to quit so easily. She may kill me with this upcoming 10 mile race but since I have survived the other attempts she’s made on my life she had to prepare one last assault. If we can do 10 miles she reasons then there is no reason we can’t do 13.1 miles.
A half marathon.
I’m 245+ lbs. and she wants me to run a half-marathon. I’m the same guy who just discovered he could run a mile straight without walking this year. I’m the same guy who ran his first 5K this year. Is it possible that a guy who was 307 lbs. in December could run a half marathon in September? I guess we’ll see.
If the 10 mile doesn’t kill me first.