- They couldn’t be too fast.
- They couldn’t be too slow.
- They couldn’t talk too much.
- They couldn’t just be completely silent.
- They couldn’t have perfect form and make me look bad.
- They couldn’t annoy me.
- They couldn’t look like somebody else that annoys me.
- They couldn’t chide me when I say weird things to people in my neighborhood.
- They couldn’t get mad if I blogged about how stupid they look in their stupid little running outfit.
- They couldn’t refuse to buy me a lemonade if we come up to a kids’ lemonade stand.
- They couldn’t NOT laugh at my hilarious jokes.
Check that… there’s Sue, or as she’s more commonly known, MrsFatass (maiden name: Lardass).
She’s a few states over from me, but I suppose I consider her a running buddy. She’s been on this C25K (Couch to 5K) kick for just twenty minutes longer than I have, and was actually one of the people who finally convinced me to lace ‘em up and hit the road.
I saw her tweet the other day that she wanted to slow down and repeat one of the week’s runs (they get progressively harder as you move up the program), but she was continuing on because she knew Jack Sh*t was on her tail.
I felt the same way during my last outing, a trio of five minute dashes with a couple of walking jaunts in between. During the first 5-minute run, I took off at a pretty good pace, trying to quickly get back to that “runner’s nirvana” spot that I’d discovered on my previous run.
What I discovered this time was that my lungs felt like they were about to turn inside-out. I was looking for that blissful, all-is-well peace of mind that I’d stumbled on last go-round and instead felt myself entering “Quick! What’s the number for 9-1-1?” territory.
I seriously thought about stopping, about ratcheting this C25K thing back and maybe repeating the previous week. “Been there, run that” sounded pretty damned good to me right at that moment.
Then I heard my running buddy trash-talk me from the back of my head.
“Oh, Jack! What’s the matter? Is your running skirt too tight?”
Why am I so certain that she would have teased and taunted me? Because I would have teased and taunted her. We’re running buddies after all.
So I sucked it up and kept putting one foot in front of the other, kept grunting and groaning, kept loping along like a sick mule until finally… blessedly… it was over.
So, thanks Sue. We may not run together, but we’re on the same road.