Go wiener mom, Go wiener mom, Go

The wiener mom has done it. She has competed (and I use the term VERY loosely) in her first sporting event. Ever. In her life. Serious here. I have never willingly played any sport or participated in any required p.e. class type of physical recreation. (I do ski, but let's not count that, as there was no competition per se, just me vs. the mountain if you will). Yes, I will say it again. never. You know when people get together to play sand volleyball at a picnic. Not me. How about a little work colleague softball. Nope. Nothing ever. However, no more my friend. No more.
On Saturday I raced (once again, using the term about as loosely as you can) in my first 5K (that's 3.2 miles). I have been working out steadily since January and am trying to kick the fatty habit.

Back story: I LOVE FOOD. Anyone who knows me knows this. I like to cook it. Eat it. Share it. Smell it. Stare at it. Talk about it. and the list goes on. We have previously discussed my aversion to the d-word and my quest to find happiness and good health in my curves. [See the post "The wiener mom is among other things, conflicted" for more information. Thank you for your interest.]

My solution to my previous quandary on the raging feud between my love of food and my flabby abs was to train for something. I would run a race damn it! I would run a 5K. I started running 20 minutes at a time in late April. My goal was always not to have to walk. I had worked my way up to struggling through 3 miles by Saturday.

Of course things couldn't go soooo smoothly. On Monday at training with JESSE (I have to write his name in all caps because he himself is all caps.) I fell off a platform and twisted my ankle. Of course I did. JESSE is truly a credit to the profession of personal training, because he didn't laugh at me (until later in the week). The platform was about 3 inches off the ground, but you get going doing your kicks and punches and who has the forethought to avoid the edge of the platform?
I had to rest up for a few days and not run my final week before the 5K.

I felt much better by Saturday and set out very nervously to my first organized sporting event. C agreed to do the race with me. Although a 5K to her is like a leisurely stroll in the park (she's training for an Ironman). She actually ran to the site of the race, and ran further than 5K to do a 5K.

At the start they asked everyone to try to group themselves by their mile times. 5 minute mile in the front and 12 minute at the end (to prevent any sort of running of the bulls type event, I imagine). Okay first of all; who runs a five minute mile. I got to see later before reaching the turn around; all I can say is they run funny.
Anyway, we positioned ourselves near to the back, as I was dreaming of finishing in 30 minutes. We were surrounded by some old people, a coulple families and for some reason, a lot of Australians. We began.

The actual running of the race is pretty boring to retell. Let's just say there was a lot of huffing, puffing, mud, and my wieners were there to cheer me on. We did pass quite a few people and I'm proud to say that I only got passed by one child.

Just as I was about to call it quits, slow down, I saw the bridge before the finish. I kicked it into a relatively high gear and finished in 29 minutes 44 seconds. And, best part: I wasn't dead!

Next was lots of love and hugs and pictures. Amy came to see me; YEA! and the wieners of course. All very proud. Except big wiener; he expressed his utter shock and dismay that I didn't win and bring home a "golden" prize. Maybe next time.

There will be a next time. Oh yes, there will.

Afterword: Not any time real soon though; I fell off the deck Saturday evening and twisted my ankle something fierce (no, the other one). It's all bruised and swollen and very painful. Trip to the doctor tomorrow and no 5Ks for at least a week.