Cold turkey

Filed again under “what the fuck was i thinking?”…

For the past 30 years a local village has a Thanksgiving Day “Turkey Trot”.  Five miles.  Not five “K”, but five “miles”.  Advertised as a “flat, fast course”, typically 6,000 people show up to run, walk, push strollers and drink coffee at 8:00 Thanksgiving morning.  Costume contest to get things rolling, and the mayor himself sings the national anthem… Folksy enough to make me want to wear plaid and buy firearms.

Last year i did it, without much pain and suffering.  i’d completed my first half-marathon just a month before, and with the best of intentions of continuing my training through the winter, i signed up for the five miler.  Right.  Other than a few training runs over the winter, and a clydesdale-esque performance at a Colon Run in March, i haven’t done much with it.  My ass turned to lead*.

Managed to maintain a reasonable degree of fitness over the summer with a regular biking program, but once again i’ve “lumped up” like so much leftover gravy.  Re-committing to a gentle training program a few weeks back, i decided to hit the Turkey Trot. 

At least it wasn’t raining.  But it was 24 F at 7:30 yesterday morning. Did i mention that this is filed under “what the fuck was i thinking?” 

These events drive home the painful point: some of us are truly built for comfort, rather than speed.  The “elite” runners (who start the race from the “Elite Runner Corral”) finished in about 30 minutes.  Yes.  That’s 5 minute miles.  Bastards.  We hate them.  Last year?  i used the “run/walk” technique – ran 4 minutes, walked 1 minute.  This year?  Swap that… and add 16 minutes to my overall time.  Ye-owch**. 

Following a 3 hour recovery nap, it was off to dinner with friends***.  i ate.  a lot.  Fortunately my dessert was a massive failure, or i’d have eaten more.  Dragged myself to the car like an engorged tick, came home and passed out… Leaving a slug-trail of gravy from the door all the way to my bed. 

So i try again.  Another re-commit.  Will attempt to stay with it… This time have adopted a couple of training buddies to help prod, poke and push me out from under the covers.  i’ll grow to hate them, no doubt.

Eat me

Eat me

sourced from

* “Ass to lead”?  Hmmm… if i could find an alchemist to convert the lead to gold i’d be set…

** There’s one less darvocet in the “emergency fund” arsenal…

*** Funny how a holiday spent with friends is SO MUCH LESS STRESSFUL than the ones i spend with extended family.  The Trailer Park arrives here on Saturday for a holiday gathering.  i am honestly looking forward to it, though.  But will likely need emergency therapy immediately after the event…