5K Day

Most of the time Mike and I do our workouts together. Even when we’re not at the same pace (he can complete his 5K up to 7 minutes faster than mine), we typically still struggle through the challenge at the same time.

On previous 5K days, we’ve driven down to the Greenbelt together, set out on our separate paths, and met back at the car when we’re finished.

That wasn’t the case today. Mike had a full schedule and had to do his run before the sun was up, during which time I had to be home helping the kids get ready for school.

When Mike first set out, I felt bad for him. He had to run in the dark, in the cold, on the track at our local high school.

Poor guy. (Sucker!)

I would get to run along the Boise River in warmer weather.

When Mike came back from his run, still at o’dark thirty, I asked how it went.

“Amazing!” he answered, “My fastest run ever. There’s something about the dark, about not being able to see in front of you.”

He did admit that he’d pushed himself to the point of dry heaving at the end of his run. (TMI?) But still, the experience and his performance at least left him dry heaving on cloud nine.

A few hours later, with the kids launched for the day and some basics tasks handled, I set out for the Greenbelt around 10am, only to find that the skies were ominously dark.

Much of my run took place in the rain. I forgot my gloves, my pants kept falling down (more TMI?), and why was I struggling so hard to breathe?

Twice I had to walk to catch my breath, sure that I was about to keel over. I still finished in under 30 minutes, which is what I was aiming for, but it was hard.

I did not feel on cloud nine.

I felt on cloud… whatever the really sucky opposite of cloud nine is.

At the end of the run I sprawled out in the grass and watched a scenario play out in my head…

…a concerned stranger sees my sprawl and is sure that I have, indeed, keeled over. They call an ambulance. It arrives and I explain that I’m simply resting after a difficult run and that I’m refusing treatment. They pressure me and I refuse further, which they take as belligerence, and then the cops are called and before you know it I’m being taken away in handcuffs.

None of that happened.

But it got me thinking about assumptions. How we guess at the outcome of something instead of just letting it play out.

After all, there have been plenty of times when I was sure I wouldn’t be able to complete something, only to surprise myself. And then other times when my arrogance leaves me far short of my goal.

If you think about it, there’s a certain measure of relief in letting go of predictions, moving forward, and seeing what happens. Come what may. Even if it may involve a little bit of dry heaving.