Sandbagging

I have no proof, but I suspect there is a population of folks out there who are expecting me to post an entry that looks something like this:

 

“All right, time for me to ‘fess up.  I really love running.  I’m a runner at heart and have been running all my life.  I decided to run the Houston Marathon after having run in marathons around the country and realized I had never run in my home town.  My average mile is sub 6:00 and my average marathon is run in just over 3 hours.  I generally run 4 to 6 times a week, rain or shine, and have been pulling all your legs this whole time.  It was my little joke on the non-running community to try and get people who are marginal runners or non-runners to really believe that if I could do this, they could do this.”

 

Well, it ain’t going to happen.  I hate running.  I don’t hate it as much as I used to and I suppose that’s progress.  But when I say “I have to run” it shouldn’t be translated as “I feel a desperate urge or desire to run” as if it brings pleasure like a bell for Pavlog’s dog, but rather, “If I don’t go run, something far worse will happen in the future”.  Much like “I have to get surgery” or something like that.

 

I have the utmost respect for you people who do this and do it well.  It’s hard.  Real hard.  And you folks make it look so easy.  I see folks like you running out at Memorial just blowing by me without breaking a sweat or even breathing hard.  I try to catch up (for about 3 steps) then just drop back into my little 10:00 trot.  The energy and excitement that just flows off you when you get to talking about running, racing, or just plain training infects others around you.

You guys rock.  You keep me going.  I don’t want to look bad in front of you (if I ever appear…  I kind of like the whole enigma thing).  Out of respect for your sport I really do give it all I have when I’m out there.  This isn’t some “jogging tour”, it’s a marathon, and it’s serious business.  I don’t want to be Clint Black flailing away at curve balls, I’m going to step out and beat this marathon thing.

 

Who knows, over the next 55 days ya’ll just might make a runner out of me.  I may have to change the name of this blog to “I hate failure, A reformed anti-runner takes aim at Triathlons”.