I signed up for the race a month ago, not knowing I would be benched by leg problems again. I was hoping I'd be okay. A few days ago I tried running on the treadmill and I was in pain pretty quickly. I'm still feeling those shinbone aches even though I'm trying to take it easy on them. *sigh*.
Considering how I limped through the last race, and I'm limping this morning, I'd be really embarrassed to drag myself through the finish hurting too much to walk well and possibly crying over a broken tibia. So I'm being wise here, really. I've still got to see a doctor about the lower half of my body to see what can be repaired.
It would have been a good chance to run a small race, however. They had a big inflatable arch up, the radio station was there, and they even had timing chips. That would have been a first for me. Not a lot of participants, either.
However, when I heard them making the announcements that registration was closing and they were getting ready to start the race, I felt that cold hand of anxiety reach in and squeeze my stomach hard. Every race, it's been the same. I know I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of even placing in my age group, but it frightens me. I'm intimidated and I'm always running alone. I like running, when it isn't bringing tears of pain to my eyes and making me feel like a failure.
But it's not really as simple as putting on an old pair of sneakers and just running. I had thought it would be simple, until I started having problems.
Well, anyway, it turns out that I WAS one of the first 100 participants, so I got the T-shirt I paid for, as well as a free T-shirt, and I got a goodie bag. It was an embroidered drawstring backpack with a bunch of useful stuff inside: bottle of water, bottle of Gatorade, water bottle, embroidered baseball cap, foam can hugger, and a foam foot (stress squeezer?) that Quincy is determined to get. His eyes lit up when he saw that thing. I don't know why.
I literally feel lame for not even being able to try, but my running shoes are past worn out (they hurt me now) and even walking hurts me lately. Yep, just a walk up and down the street is pretty awful. I think when I find a good shoe for myself, I'll buy a second pair. Maybe my six-days -a-week workout schedule was too much for the Cumulus. Next time (tomorrow?) I will mention to the person fitting me that I need shoes for a person that is heavier than she may first appear. ;).
(Ok, yeah, I know I look like I need to lose weight, but I'm told I carry it well, so the unsuspecting does not realize just how heavily I carry it. I was being weighed in a doctor's office once, and the nurse looked astonished when she finished balancing the scale. She asked, "Where are you putting it?!? I can't see how you weigh that much! " Looks can be deceiving. And so can the baggy clothes I've always favored. Hey, I get claustrophobic with tight clothes. I used to be a kid who couldn't float on my back without my legs pulling me under because I was all lean muscle. Until I was in my mid 20s, I was a slender girl with big breasts and wide hips. I had some great curves. Too bad I couldn't afford to buy healthy groceries on my salary, because that changed things.)
So I'm considering myself a financial contributor for this race. It benefits the Wounded Warrior Project, so I don't mind giving my money for that. It's a good cause. Besides, I got some decent swag for my registration fee, for a change. I wonder if all those 20-somethings I was intimidated by got any good stuff. I wonder if they even got T-shirts. Lol. Now I've got two green ones, which is a scarce color in my wardrobe. (I flat out paid for one with my registration, so don't give me any guff about it.)
I'm not giving up on my running, but for now I have to sort out my biomechanics, shoes, get some more weight off, and really work on my nutrition. Hey, I grew up (possibly deliberately) malnourished, so is it any surprise proper nutrition has escaped me all these years?