THE RED ROVERS
The brain has a remarkable power to 'forget' unpleasant aspects of some experiences - perhaps in an effort to get the body to repeat them. Childbirth is a classic example. If women truly remembered the experience, no one would have siblings. The Monk Run last night was a little like that. With temperatures in the 90s, high humidity, and a course that (in)famously brags about having 0.1 miles of level surface - there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth.
The Red Rovers, both true and honorary members, put in a valiant effort. Of course, I can't speak for any of their individual experiences, but suffice it to say, we all finished - some several minutes before others.... but we all finished.
All week I had been telling myself, "You can do anything for 5k". Somehow the thought seemed reasonable at the time. And, really, now, as I write this, I think, "Oh, it wasn't that bad." But really, if I try to let myself go back to those moments (that seemed eternal) where I felt like I was radiating more heat than the sun, when my heart was about to explode, where I was breathing heavier than Jenna Jamison... I think, "Yeah, it was that bad." Thankfully, though, it was over in 26 minutes.
Afterwards there was pulled pork, plenty of beer, good conversation with old and new friends, and (coincidentally) a band called "Red Head Betty". Heck, there were even some fireworks in the not to far off distance. The more beer I had, which is a rarity for me, the more the race seemed not-so-bad. As Seebo put it, the best races are the ones where people stick around afterwards - and that we did.
The Red Rovers, both true and honorary members, put in a valiant effort. Of course, I can't speak for any of their individual experiences, but suffice it to say, we all finished - some several minutes before others.... but we all finished.
All week I had been telling myself, "You can do anything for 5k". Somehow the thought seemed reasonable at the time. And, really, now, as I write this, I think, "Oh, it wasn't that bad." But really, if I try to let myself go back to those moments (that seemed eternal) where I felt like I was radiating more heat than the sun, when my heart was about to explode, where I was breathing heavier than Jenna Jamison... I think, "Yeah, it was that bad." Thankfully, though, it was over in 26 minutes.
Afterwards there was pulled pork, plenty of beer, good conversation with old and new friends, and (coincidentally) a band called "Red Head Betty". Heck, there were even some fireworks in the not to far off distance. The more beer I had, which is a rarity for me, the more the race seemed not-so-bad. As Seebo put it, the best races are the ones where people stick around afterwards - and that we did.
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