TRAINING FOR MY FIRST 5K

As a teenager I was fast. I mean turn off my bedroom light and in my bed before it was dark fast. Ok, I’m exaggerating, a bit. I did have world class speed though; AAU Junior Olympic medalist speed. Now, you would think one blessed with all of this natural ability for running would enjoy it as a past time or look at it as a comfort. Well if you thought that you’d be wrong. I hate running. Matter of fact there are certain times I detest it. Personally, I see it as a pointless activity that major shoe companies concocted as a means to sell overly expensive excessively specialized shoes. Absolute waste of time. With that, these are my observations on me training for and running my first 5K race.

Now, why did I run a 5K race if I am so strongly anti-running? I was tricked! A client of mine, law firm, casually asked what my late afternoon plans were for the third week of June on Friday. I often schedule appointments with clients casually so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. I was honest and said nothing. Next thing I know I’m signed up for a corporate 5x5K race. Bastards! Never trust a lawyer! Some of you might be inclined to say a 5K race isn’t long at all and I’m being a big baby. Well f#ck you. Matter of fact, f#ck you and yo momma. Her momma too AND ya uncle and aunties. I told you how much I hate running dammit!

At the time of the announcement of my inclusion on this team I had exactly 3 weeks to train. In addition to my world class speed I also have super human procrastination powers. The first time I motivated myself enough to train was 2 weeks before the race. For a normal 5k this would’ve been enough to prevent embarrassment at coming in last. Unfortunately, the employees of the law firm told me the Senior Partner who “asked” me to run is extremely competitive and doesn’t believe in any ‘just finishing is victory enough’ bullsh%t. To add to that, the other Senior Partner is in a running club and consistently clocks in at sub 22 minutes for his 5k. This guy is easily pushing 50 also. I felt like I had to step up my game!  My first training consisted of the treadmill. I hate running so I don’t need much of an excuse not to run, but constant rain and chilly temperatures made it clear the treadmill was as good as it was going to get that week. I made it through about 2 kilometers then literally said “This 5k can suck a dick”, then I went and lifted weights. If I passed out during the middle of the race I could at least look good when the EMTs wheeled my black behind to the Ambulance. With that thought I went shopping after and bought some new running gear, some nice running shoes and running shorts. The shorts were the perfect length to show off my nicely muscled thighs that are absolutely useless for running a 5K. 

Me during that first practice 5K

Running is so boring to me! People tell me how running is like yoga. Their brain turns off and they got lost in the mindlessness of the act. Well those people are brain damaged. Irreversibly brain damaged. My thoughts become laser focused. “Negro WTF are you DOING!?! There is no police chasing us so for the love of God STOP!” After a couple more attempts on the treadmill I figured it wasn’t the best place to always train and I needed to run outside to get a feel for the terrain. The first time I decided to run outside the weather was decent, not too hot or cold. I had €20 tucked inside my sock in case I needed to catch a taxi to get back home. I had my iPod full of old school tunes. I was set! I got about 5 minutes into my run and my legs and lungs started fighting like a bunch of 5 year olds. “That’s my oxygen! Give it back! I had it first! He took my oxygen!!” I knew I was in trouble if 5 minutes in I was having difficulty. I mean, if I live to be 100 I can finish a 5K. The problem was there were 4 other people depending on me to not only finish but get a decent time. The fact they believed their jobs depended on me having a good time was motivation enough. I learned something else during those first 5 minutes also. My ear canals are deformed. I mean, why else would my expensive running earphones keep falling out of my ears after every three steps. Almost 40 years old and I’ve lived my entire life with deformed ear canals. No way are my earphones pieces of crap that I wasted my hard-earned money on. Needless to say I didn’t run a full 5K that day.

So, the Monday before the race I decided to run a full 5K no matter how long it took me. If my memory serves me correct I finished on Wednesday afternoon. At least that’s what my legs felt like. I was DONE after that practice 5K. I live in a 5 story walk up which is more like a 6 story walk up because in Germany the ground floor isn’t counted as the first floor. I am not religious in the least but I almost found Jesus walking up those stairs. Or I was hoping he would find me and help carry me the rest of the way up. I might have offered up my first unborn child for bottle of cold water and a push too. I lift weights, regularly. But the pain I felt after that 5K was a whole nother other as we say where I’m from. I wasn’t even running fast! For the first time in like 17 years I took a bath. I had to cause standing up to take a shower was not an option.  I was not looking forward to that race. The next observations are on the actual race itself. To be continued...

CONFESSIONS

This blog isn’t about my past exploits or sordid past; it’s about me taking this journey I’m on to yet another level. I don’t feel comfortable exposing myself publicly as I’ve done lately, it’s against the very core of my nature and it reveals what I’ve painstakingly protected with massive barriers and silence for years, me. It’s a constant internal battle to push the “publish” button on each blog post. Nevertheless, here I grow…

A book I read theorizes that a person needs 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert in some field, my field of expertise was being a Player. This is no boast, only a fact. I have my 10,000 hours. Most men who apply the “Player” label to themselves would pinpoint the age of puberty when they started their “training” at 12-14 years old. I on the other hand began much younger. I remember my “training” beginning around the age of 4. You see, my “training” came from someone who unknowingly took my natural ability to get a read on emotions and honed it to near perfection with hands on instruction. This schooling came from an unlikely source, my mother.

Trust me when I say this isn’t one of those blogs where an adult fails to take responsibility for their actions by blaming their parents for their shortcomings. I love my mother unconditionally and even without all of my friends constantly reminding me, know how FUNomenal the woman is. No buts at all. The conditions my mother experienced and endured in her life played out in mine as well. If you read my mother’s book, Healing for my Hurt: A Journey to Wholeness: Finding My Father, Finding Myself, you can find it online for purchase here, http://www.amazon.com/Healing-Hurt-Journey-Wholeness-Finding/dp/1449004687/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1/180-6812881-8884148 you’ll see the obstacles she has overcome and why I’m so proud of her. Plus it’s a good read! A synopsis is, my mother grew up without a father until she was 56, then was married, to my father, for 13 years which from my own memories and recollections was loud, angry, painful and unfulfilling. Imagine being a woman who has either had a lack of interaction with a man she wants to know desperately, her father, or an unhealthy interaction with a man she wanted to love, her husband. Then I was born. I was groomed to be utterly attentive to my mother’s innate needs. I say that with no malice or regret. I love my mother through and through. As I aged, I became increasingly adept at knowing when and how to provide comfort to my mother. I learned how to apply the emotional salve she craved expertly. I know how much my mother suffered, even if I didn’t entirely understand why. I empathized and did what I could to lesson her pain, I never asked twice for anything, never complained no matter how bad it was, I was a midget stoic. Can you see how this “training” supersedes anything any man could acquire? As a child, I knew I was meant to do something that was imperative, but lacking adequate comprehension I saw it as a task, something to do before watching cartoons or going out to play. My skill at detecting the subtle nuances of a woman’s emotional needs is unparalleled. This talent in itself can be a wonderful thing. I believe, however, due to other circumstances, my learning to connect emotionally was nourished while my being comfortable enough to allow the reciprocation was stunted.

If we could look over the course of my adult life, you see the same pattern over and over again, me providing what a woman desires, on every level. I plugged myself directly into their wants and went about it in such a way that they were convinced we had a spiritual connection, that we shared something unique and special. Many were willing to stake everything on that belief. I on the other hand was only doing what I’d been conditioned to do, a task to complete, a chore if you will. The level of confusion, frustration and misunderstandings on both sides were sky high. I couldn’t comprehend why such a big deal was made about something I did for everyone, while women couldn’t understand why I fought against what they wanted to give so desperately. I’m not saying it was always mindless work for me. At times, with certain people, and I hope they know who they are, it wasn’t a job, but came naturally as breathing. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t learned to allow them within my walls. I honestly had no idea what was meant to be done. I resisted all attempts to reveal Carl. My level of discontent was always in the danger zone. I could only go a certain amount of time around people before I became almost physically ill. Even being in the presence of others could be too much for me and I would become a recluse for days, hiding out in my apartment completely disengaged from the world. Bad enough when your single making friends worry, almost unforgiveable in a relationship. I think what I’m trying to say is, people could always sense this huge space I placed between them and myself, yet, they were always drawn to me and intrigued by how quickly I was able to get them to feel safe and comfortable. That was something I saw as my purpose, to appease. My distance was created because I was afraid of the unknown. I knew what to expect when people opened up to me, but it was all uncharted territory when I was expected to do the same. Now, I am attempting to map that territory.

I am a work in progress in every sense of the word. I am attempting to allow people past my buffer zone and peak behind the curtain to catch a glimpse of the wizard. It’s difficult on many levels for me, but I’m trying. A couple of people I consider to be friends, good friends because I care about both of them immensely, sent me emails. I believe their emails were sent with only the best intentions. These emails questioned the appropriateness of making my journey so public. Both friends made very valid points about why it might not be the best way to go about things. I however explained to them, for too long I kept EVERYONE out and lived in a self imposed solitary confinement, opening the door for all to see forces me to clean up the mess. Much harder to hide anything, and I’m tired of hiding. I think it was Albert Einstein who said insanity is defined by doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. It’s time to do something different, with that, more blogs to follow. Day 28 still learning…