Five K

On a 1-10 scale of fun-ness, where 10 is really good sex and 1 is getting eaten alive by piranhas while being audited by the IRS during a root canal, I would rate running negative 72. So, imagine my unmitigated joy when yesterday the Maura proposes that we spend this upcoming Saturday morning running a 5k. The idea of the 5k has always been strange to me. Running. Crowds of people. Mornings. And to add insult to likely injury, they make you pay for it.

Now as the girl has been a good sport about playing the sports that I like such as tennis, bike riding, aimlessly walking around Virginia-Highland for hours, and pie baking, I figure I owe her this one. However, while I am currently in the best shape of my life, due to my aforementioned distaste for the sport, up until this evening, I’ve never run more than a mile in my life. In fact, the last time I had run more than 100 yards was for our mile run requirement in P.E. my freshman year in high school. More than ten years ago.

But, I figured that since I have four days to train for my first 5k, I needed to start right away, and figure out if I could even run 5k without triggering one of those heart attacks of which the men in my family tree have always been so fond. I took off after work (well, and one episode of Seinfeld) and ranjogwalked for about 35 minutes around the neighborhood. I came back and plotted my course into walkjogrun.net and found that I had gone right about 5k.

Five K

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