I am not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination. I love to walk and hike and bike, but always quite pleasurably and at a leisurely pace. I love yoga as well...mostly because it's not competitive and you can quietly flop around your mat at your own speed. Plus, I am prone to awkwardly falling in ways that make everyone point and laugh before catching their breath in between giggles to get around to asking me if I'm okay.
Imagine my absolute excitement and glee when I was put in charge organizing a corporate team for a charity run. I rallied the troops and got about 35 people agreeing to run.
Everyone was into it in theory. The week before the race, they dropped like flies. On race day, we had a grand total of FOUR people.
FOUR.
Yeah. That's right. We're winners for just showing up.
A quick look around revealed that everyone else had team t-shirts on. We were chic and polished in our conservative black and grey team uniforms. The anti-conformist conformist. Also, I failed to have the foresight to splurge for a hospitality tent and we were forced to endure the taunting of our peers as they indulged in ice cream bars, Gatorade and other fine delicacies in the comfort of their refined encampments.
Anyway...the the race is so huge, that it took a half hour from the gun time to get up to the start line. 15,000 people were running. Because I had been waiting for another team member to show up, I ended up starting at the very back of the crowd, with a lot of walkers to dodge.
It was a gorgeous day for a run in Central Park. Or, in my case, it was nice day to plod the 3.5 miles in my slow, non-competitive jogging pace. I enjoyed myself immeasurably. I even finished 10 minutes faster than I predicted, showing that my once-powerful psychic powers of prediction have atrophied to the point of unpredictability.
Plus, afterwards, we went out for drinks at an outdoor bar that had comfy porch-swing type seating. You can't really beat that.
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