To do it all overAgain and again
Back to the end
The sum of my dreams
And everything I ever wanted to be
-Lily Frost
I remember high-school the first time and running THE MILE. I wasn't particular physically active back then either. I was American, after-all. I remember running around the track at Western Guilford. Coach Holifield yelling atrocities, the stares, the competitiveness, the group of smoker girls walking the whole time and gossiping. Back then I pulled a respectable sub 10 minute mile. Today, like some time travelling "do-over" I was about to do it again. Worse is while I was running about a year ago, it's been at least 6 months since I've done anything but walking. It's rather scary to wake up in a body that's now a third of a century old (don't do the math) then line up with a bunch of teenagers, and a few twenty year olds at school, then realize you're about to run around something 10 times. Something that looks nothing like a 1/10th of a mile... something that looks like the belt-loop of a major city.
This was my day.
Not that I'm complaining. I wanted the chance to prove to myself I could do it. In fact I was doing this for all the people who have spent the last decade shoveling burgers down their throats, drinking too much beer, and participating in haphazard recreational activities. This was my moment, and I was going to shine.
I've had sciatica that's left me immobile during my early 20's, was partially paralyzed in my upper right arm for 6 months after a wreck in Colorado. I had heat-stroke in Arizona, and these days I'm as diabetic as the rest of the United States of fatties. You don't grow old without a certain amount of war wounds. None of this was going to stop me. Today, I would take fat, faster than it's ever been before. I would accelerate the large orbiting mass around my waste-line around the track at such a high rate of speed that the centrifical force in the corners would punch a hole in space and time, and send me back to 1995 to tell myself "even if 27/73% hamburger is on sale, it doesn't mean you should buy it."
I had Shan stretch me out this morning. I then got to school, and emerged from the changing room with my Ipod loaded with Rocky songs, (no leg warmers though I was tempted) and stretched out with the class. We lined up and we were off. A slow and steady pace, I managed a jog for 2.5 laps, and even passed some other people before it became obvious my extremities weren't receiving oxygen. (Thank you, my cat for the Asthma) They (the back of the pack) of course looked at me and said "we can't let fatty-the-hut beat us." and then proceeded to pass me. This went on for about 9 laps until I realized that they had quit. Being they didn't lap me, this left me to conclude they stopped at 10 laps, but didn't finish the 10th. They only ran 9/10ths of a mile! WTF? Oh it was now on. I knew they'd never know, but I would and I'm finishing this puppy. I ran as hard as I could while maintaining one hand on the waist-band of my fresh new K-mart biker shorts which apparently would not stay up. My boob is flopping out of it's bra.... I'm calculating my re-entry trajectory- but I'm bringing it home. I'm sure, to everyone else, it looked like I came in last... but in my head, I knew I beat that other cheater. The Eagle had landed. I ended up with a time of 16:32. It isn't pretty, I was shooting stuff out of orifices I didn't know I had, but I survived, and I did it. I didn't cheat, I'm not going to lie about my time... it's just me against the world. And to me that's an amazing thing- to do life over again, a chance to prove yourself to you, to become everything you ever dreamed, everything you wanted to be.
YAY!!! Now that was a story worth hearing! Good onya! I had the same feeling when I did my first Jazzercise class. I'm 46 and at that time, weighed way more than I should and thought I'd have a coronary before that class was done. Now I'm totally hooked on it. You should come out and give it a try sometime. I have a DVD that will get you a free month of Jazzercise if you think you'd like to do it.