For the past several years, I have had to have outpatient spinal epidurals every three months to help alleviate the pain in my back. This was unavoidable if I wanted the ability to move at all. The epidural would normally "take" about 75% (if they took at all) -- and work for about two months on average. I would then schedule my next one (up to four per year) and would have another epidural one month later. It was as consistent as a Swiss watch. $150 out of pocket. Every. Damn. Time.
Shortly after receiving my September (2013) epidural, something odd happened: the epidural worked 100%. It was unbelievable. On 09/16/13 (yes, I remember the exact date), I decided to make a change knowing that I only had a small epidural window to work with. I wanted to run then, but considering my arthritis and other medical issues, I knew running wasn't going to happen at 295 pounds.
I started alternating workouts with the recumbent bike, elliptical machine, and ARC trainer. In no time flat, I had lost over 60 pounds. Losing weight was so much easier when you were as large as I was in the beginning.
I was finally able to start running again around the last week of February or first week of March after losing 75 pounds. By this time, I had worked to completing half-marathons on an elliptical machine to strengthen my knees, core, etc. enough to handle the load of running and build my cardio base. I was ecstatic. Shortly afterward, I ran my first outdoor 5k in MANY years in the *impressive* time of about 34 minutes. Regardless of time, I didn't care. I completed the distance and this was more important than speed.
While I have a LOVE for running, I have never been a "racer". Until recently, the extent of my "racing" career had consisted of sprinting on a football field or sprinting for possession/attacking on the futbol pitch. That's right, I said futbol. I am a soccer addict.
I try to find a charity to contribute to each year; when I couldn't find one that jumped out at me, I created my own. My charity was to benefit the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation in honor of a longtime friend's daughter (Marley) who was born with this horrid disease. We unofficially call ourselves "Marley's Angels". I like the ring to that..
When I was able to run the distance, I figured: "what the hell?". Let's sign up for a 5k race and see what happens. I had never raced before, I am competitive by nature (only against myself), and thought it would be fun way to try and raise money/awareness for CF -- and how horrible of a disease it is. I sold myself out to an embarrassment challenge by running this race in a purple CF tutu if I gained $500 of support and committed to run the race in a purple prom dress if we could raise $1,000 of support. I don't care; I have zero shame, it was for an awesome cause, and 100% worth it. So, without further ado, my first ever race..
I kept my word :)
04/12/14: Chick-Fil-A Connect Race Series 5k -- Athens, AL
By this time, I had worked my 5k time down to 25'xx" -- which was not bad considering that I had only returned to running for a little over one month. I had ONLY one race goal: complete the race in sub 25' and earn an official PR. From my training runs, I thought this was completely achievable UNTIL..
A few days before the race, I was out running in my neighborhood at night. I had all of my safety gear on to make myself visible. As I was running down the street, a white Dodge Dakota truck was moving toward me, slowed and moved to the center of the street, almost stopped, and then aimed his truck at me and hit the gas. This asshole literally tried to hit me. The owner and driver of that truck better consider it a gift or blessing that I still have not been able to find them.
It proved to be a good thing that my crusty father was a paratrooper with the 101st in Vietnam. He actually taught me proper jump technique earlier than I can remember. Why? I'll never know. This teaching actually came in handy that night as I got myself the hell out of Dodge (see what I did there? :). The bad news is that it completely hosed my ankle. My hip and knee were worse for wear after eating a curb. What made it really suck was that I had my first race just a few days after this.
Before the race, I did everything I could to ice and rehab all injuries from a few nights before. My friend, who I've known for over 30 years, was bringing her beautiful, 4 year-old daughter, that I've committed to run for throughout 2014, to watch me race. Her daughter (Marley) was also going to wear a purple tutu so she and I would have "matching outfits" when we met.
There's. No. Way. In. Hell. I'm. Backing. Out. I made a promise to that little angel and dammit, I am NOT going to break it.
I still had my ice bag on my ankle in the starting corral and passed it over to my wife about 90 seconds before race start. I was trying to get my ankle as numb as possible so it could hold up for 20-30 minutes. This race was not chip-timed and I was WAY back in the pack (lesson learned). I did not have much going my way this day except for my daughter and her "new friend" cheering me on from the sidewalk. That was enough for me. Plus, I was a larger, heavily tattooed male, wearing a COTTON CF awareness t-shirt (another lesson - I didn't know better), a purple tutu and matching leg tutus, on a very HOT and HUMID day. A lot of lessons were learned about racing this day :).
At race start, I left all of my friends that joined me to race behind right out of the corral. My ankle was killing me, but I kept pushing. I don't remember that much about the race route except that it was pretty nice and the volunteers were awesome. What I DO remember vividly was that every woman I passed complimented my "outfit" -- while every male I passed said: "Oh hell no! I'm not going to be beat by some asshole in a tutu!" -- and they took off! I just laughed it off and ended up laughing harder as I passed EVERY one of them again as they were sucking wind less than a mile away. A couple of them actually gave me the finger. I didn't care. I blew one of them a kiss just to screw with his head because he called me a motherf***er instead of an asshole (I wasn't kidding when I said I had zero shame).. Mission accomplished -- it worked. Now he was REALLY pissed! He didn't have the balls to say anything when I confronted him after the race though.
Another lesson learned that day was to not trust the distance on the GPS watch versus the course distance (I was a rookie -- I didn't know). So when my watch read that I had 800 meters to go, I started my kick and took off! I had no clue that there was still 200 meters to go after that :). The learning lessons just keep piling up.. LOL!
Finishing up..
Considering that I was running injured and had only returned to running almost 6 weeks before, I cannot complain about my time. While my time is by no means "good", I am proud of it considering what I had to go through to earn it and the support I had from the sidelines while racing it.
Marley and I are matching!
And.. I have been a race addict ever since.
- Official Time: 26:35
- OA Result: 31/297
- AG Result: 2nd (Bling!)
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