Saturday, March 24, 2012

Boyer we runners.....Wait, really?!

I am preparing myself for my first half-marathon on May 5th. Just today I ran 7 miles with Trent and my sister, Kristen. It was incredible. I never thought I would be crazy enough to attempt that, or even have the desire to run!! I am averaging at least 12 miles a week; soon to increase quite a bit.

If you have known me even for a short time, you will know that I don't enjoy running. Trent doesn't enjoy it, either. In fact, I had a horrific and embarrassing experience of monumental proportions involving running. (Trent also had one, but he'll share his later.) Allow me to tell my tale:

7th Grade. South Lake Tahoe Middle School. Awkward years.

 I join the track team just because and quickly find that I'm kind of fast, but only for quick I sign up for the long jump, 100 meter sprint and try my hand at shot put just to keep it interesting. I go to practice everyday and attend school meets at our neighboring schools. I never excel, except I do pretty well in the long jump. I even bought special track shoes with spikes! OOOooohhh. They made me feel I was so fast.

District championships were coming up. Although I hadn't placed in any of my events, I had the opportunity to go if I entered the one mile race. We didn't have enough people to represent us in that event. My friend, Sara, and I agreed just because we wanted to go to district! No biggie, right?

Afternoon race. Early summer in Carson City, Nevada. Black track. It was a very, very hot day. 

I start the race and quickly pick a brisk, but cautious pace. I fall behind. I sweat profusely. My glasses (yeah, I wore those back then) kept sliding off of my face from the heat and all of the bouncing. I get lapped once. Am I only on my first lap? Man, this track is freaking huge!!

I was later lapped a second time and realize that the next event's racers are already lined up by the track...waiting. I cross the finish line with a few other people who were finishing. But wait--I still had an entire lap left!! I was walking by that point, holding my side, crying and utterly mortified. Sara and I were the only two left on the track. She had been with me the entire race when suddenly she took off running, leaving me in dead last. There I was, red-faced, crying, dehydrated and embarrassed. I rounded the last turn, picking up a shuffle. People in the stands starting clapping and cheering. I looked for a place to run and hide (under the stadium, perhaps?!) but slowly made my way across the finish line. I collapsed in the high jump pit and don't remember anything else from that horrific day.

The best part? My mom videotaped the entire, painful event. My sisters love to pull it out and laugh at my pitiful effort. It makes me laugh, too. Isn't life funny?