Last Monday, I got up off the computer to go for a run, around 10 in the morning. Lo and behold, when I looked outside there was snow on the ground. This should not have been a surprise, since this has been the shittiest spring we've had in years. It has been cold and wet and altogether NOT spring-like....I can be forgiven for being offended by snow on the ground on April 18th. I know we live in Canada, but come on.
I hate running in the snow; my shoes get wet and my feet get cold and I have to mince along like an 18th century dandy so as not to fall on my keester. I suited up to run on the treadmill in the basement.
Just as I got myself on and warming up, I turned on the tv and hey, the Boston Marathon was just starting; the top-ranked women were literally at the starting line waiting for the gun to go off. I was psyched! I paced myself with the front runner and was totally inspired! This was great! I am the laziest creature ever made: I don't stand when I can sit, I don't sit when I can lie down. I hate a challenge and couldn't care less if I lose a contest. I will happily and cheerfullly let myself off the hook at every possible opportunity. As you can imagine, motiviation to exercise is a constant problem.....I would happily stay in bed for the rest of my life. So you can appreciate my delight at a diversion that actually made me want to run. (Let's be very clear about one thing: I have no desire whatsoever to actually run a marathon. When you start running, people will ask you all the time if that is why you've taken up the sport. My reply usually "I'd rather chew off my own arm and beat myself to death with it.")
The race was brisk, but not impossible. The woman who ran out in front of the pack was toddling along at a most acceptable pace, and I was running right along with her! Of course, I had no hills and no wind to contend with, while she had both. And I had a glass of water beside me. And I could stop at any time and no one was watching me. And although I was keeping pace with Kim Smith, I was pretty sure that I couldn't last more than about 20 minutes doing this; she had to keep it up for another 2 hours.
After I gave up, having given it my all for a whole half hour I showered and changed and watched the rest of the race with a Diet Coke and a bag of Cheetos.
And that is the story of "How Mrs. Loudshoes Ran the Boston Marathon".