Motivation.....

I visited Tera's elementary school for a meeting after my daughter's first day of Girls on the Run.  As soon as I walked into the classroom I realized that I was the only male participant there and immediately felt out of place.  The mom's were gathered at a table getting to know each other and talking as if they had known each other their entire lives.  I, myself, chose to sit in a corner.  Maybe I'll introduce myself some other time.

Anyway, after the meeting I asked Tera how her first run went.

"I thought I was going to die."

Well, that's a good start.

But once I told her that I would have a blog about her 5K race she perked right up.  I don't see this little girl backing down for an instant.

Now, however,  I suddenly find myself limbering up and getting ready for my first post full time employment run.  In the meeting one of the coaches said that, while by no means mandatory, it would be nice to have a family member run the 5K with their daughter, sister, niece, whatever.

I knew as soon as I heard that that there was no way Karla was going to run a 5K.   She'll gladly walk it, but that's probably as far as it will go.

Then again, Tera is stubborn, she may talk Karla into it yet.

Yeah, I doubt it...So I am leaving nothing to chance.  If Tera asks me to run then, by God, I'm going to run.  What better way to support and encourage my daughter than to be there with her every step of the way......and, eh hem, while she is still young enough to want me there.

In the back of the Girls on the Run grown-up guide I found five different 5K training programs designed to fit each individuals current activity level.

The first level was just a simple walk.  I skipped over that one since I've been putting in an hour walk 5-6 times a week.

I settled on a run-walk training program to get me started.  Being optimistic I felt that I should be able to handle it.  After all, as I previously mentioned, I've been walking an hour, plus I've been doing workouts for chest, back, legs, etc. etc.  All in all about two hours a day, four days a week, and an hour the other two days.  This shouldn't be a problem.

After a five minute walk I began the first of five sets of runs.  A set includes a three minute run followed by a two minute walk.  Piece of cake, right?

SET 1

So far, so good.  Having pulled a hamstring once, I'm always worried about tweaking it when ever I do run.  But, Mr. Hammy had nothing to report.  I guess I stretched out well enough.

When I was a kid I didn't mind cross country running.  The main reason for that was because I had no idea how far I ran and how far I had to go.

Tell me to run a mile on a track, however, and I'll tell you to go straight to Hell.  There is something about having that visual aid, that knowing just exactly how far you've got to go, that just doesn't work for me.  I'm tired, dude....I don't need to know that I've still got three laps left to go.

I stop for my two minute walk and assess the damage done to my body.  Aside from my lungs burning slightly I don't feel bad at all.  In fact, at one minute into the walk phase,  I was ready to run again. But I went ahead and finished the two minute walk.  Having four sets to go I knew this good feeling wasn't going to last long.

SET 2

I start to feel some discomfort in my left shin, but nothing too terrible.  I think about Tera and I running together, finishing together......and then having a bowl of ice cream together as a reward for working hard.

It's hard to believe that not two months ago Tera, aside from softball, was a couch potato with horrible eating habits.  She has come a long way in regards to eating right, which I honestly believe has given her a jolt of energy and ambition.  It's great to think that perhaps after Girls on the Run is over Tera will continue to run and stay in shape.  That maybe, just maybe, Tera has acquired a life long habit.

Yeah, I know....She's only eight.  But a guy can dream, right?

Another two minute walk has arrived and I still don't feel too bad.  At about one minute into my walk the song "Scatta" by Skrillex hits my ears, and I'm amped up and ready to go.  But, once again, I make myself finish the two minute walk.

SET 3

Perhaps dub-step music was not the best idea for running.  "Scatta" had me so jacked up that I ran at a quicker pace than I should have.  At about a minute and a half into the run I could feel my legs starting to go dead on me, the discomfort in my left shin was a lot more pronounce and the lungs were getting a good burn.

When ever my workouts get tough I reach inside and find ways to motivate myself.  This time my motivation is my son, Toby.

I've always pushed Toby to attack everything with the mindset of being the best at what he does.  More than once he has heard me say, "Let's take it to the next level."

And while my encouraging wasn't always met with enthusiasm, the end result is that Toby has managed to do very well in regards to becoming self motivated.  Mentally, he is a very sharp kid.....I seriously don't know if he has ever finished a single school year with anything below an A -- something he takes great pride in.

Physically, at thirteen, Toby stands at 5'3" and weighs 110 lbs.  That doesn't sound like a big deal -- until he takes his shirt off.  The little shit is chiseled from his summer weight lifting program, and he is already talking about getting back into the gym as soon as football season is over.

The kid is confident, bordering on cocky...Which is just fine with me.  I'll take cocky over timid any day.

What motivates me about Toby is that after all those years of pushing, the young man is starting to push back.  Now I'm the one being encouraged to keep moving.  I'm the one being told that I'm not doing something right.

Trust me, there are times when he tells me something that I don't want to hear, but, turnabout is fair play, and I've told him plenty of things that he didn't want to hear.  So when it's my time, I will need to buck up and take my medicine.

Toby and I are getting to the point where we can feed off each other......It's a good thing, as Martha Stewart likes to say.

So, despite the self inflicted pain by way of being an over zealous chowder head, I push on.  Toby would accept no less.

Thank God, the two minute walk is here.....This is starting to suck.

SET 4
I hit my first hill.....and felt that first small blade stuck into my ribs.

To the outsider, Kansas is nothing more than a long stretch of flat plains with the occasional tree to dot the landscape.

Folks, that is western Kansas.  Eastern Kansas is full of trees and hills.....and at this point and time I felt like every single hill in Kansas was on my running route.  That's what happens when you buy a house in a town built on a hill.

I finished my upward descent, my throat dry and scratchy, and anticipated, hoped, that the road would get easier now that I've reached flat ground.  I was wrong.

My right quad, just above my knee, checked in to let me know that I was abusing it.  Duly noted, now please go away.

I run by Marsha's house hoping, even though I shouldn't, that she would be outside.  In my weakened state of mind I would have been sorely tempted to stop and shoot the bull with her until every muscle in my body ceased in letting me know it existed.

Dammit, she's not outside......Gotta keep running.

The two minute walk didn't last long enough.  My hands are on my head as I struggle to get more air into my lungs.  My two hour workouts didn't do shit for preparing me for a run.  This thought serves as a good reminder that there are many different kinds of "in shape".  Being in shape in one activity doesn't necessarily translate to being in shape in another.

SET 5

My run for this set began at a much notably slower pace than all my previous.  I hit another small hill and thought to myself that, next time, I will plan a different route to avoid all these damn hills....Then I remembered that it doesn't matter what route I take -- damn it all,  there will be hills.

My throat is killing me and I can feel just about every muscle below my waist. I am really struggling.

Then I remember that 10K I ran in Leavenworth.....

When I was a teenager I participated in a 10K. It turned out being the one and only 10K race I ever ran in, and it ended with severe disappointment.  For those of you that don't know, a 10K is approximately 6.2 miles  -- a run long enough for you to go through several peaks and valleys in regards to pain.

Towards then end of the race it felt as if I had several knives buried into my rib cage.  It hurt like hell and I prayed for a runner's high.

What is a runner's high?  I'm not sure I know how to accurately describe it.  Let's just say that when it happens you feel absolutely no pain --- it's almost as if you're floating and not running.  Your mind goes into a zone and you just run and run and run......It's the greatest feeling the world.  It's getting high without the use of drugs.

But there would be no runners high on this day.....Every step was a shockwave of pain and I started to doubt that I could finish the race.

At the top of a hill (yeah, another damn hill) I broke down and began to walk.  Two kids in my age division passed me.  When the first one passed I didn't care, I just assumed that I wasn't doing that well to begin with, so who cares.

When the second kid passed me, it knocked me out of me funk.  "No, I can't quit now."

I began to run despite my body's insistence that I stop.

I don't recall the exact distance, but just a short way ahead of me I see other runners rounding a corner and disappearing behind a building.  Just get to the building I tell myself.

When I reached the building I turned the corner and what do I see not twenty yards ahead of me?  The damn finish line.  I was beside myself as soon as I realized that I quit running less than a quarter of a mile away from the end.

I picked up the pace and finished the race.  I wasn't happy knowing that I gave up so close to the end.

To make matters worse my coach came up and congratulated me on getting fourth place in my age division.

Fourth?  I thought about the two kids that passed me.  I was crestfallen when I realized that if I had kept going I would have medaled in my very first race.....A second place medal at that.

To make matters even worse.  I found out that a friend of mine whose ass I'd been kicking in practice decided to run the Maur Hill race instead of Leavenworth......and won the damn race.

I don't remember that last time I had been that upset with myself.

So, I handled it just like any ill-tempered adolescent would handle it......I quit.

By my junior year in high school I had quit sports all together.........Something I will always regret. All those cans of Budweiser strewn across a many a dirt road did nothing in the way of preparing me for life as an adult.  I chose to escape as opposed to standing up and fighting.

You may think it's just sports, but it isn't.  Sports, when coached right, can teach a young person a lot of valuable life lessons......I could have used those lessons.

But, better late than never.  I take the pain and keep running.  I'm not quitting.  Push --- Push ---- Push.....and when I finished, it felt as if I had won that race that I should have won all those many years ago.

To a lot of people, finishing a run may not be a big deal.....But to me, it was a real sense of accomplishment.  This humble beginning will build and lead to greater things.  It will lead to a finish line with my daughter.  It will lead to the creation of a great memory.

And who knows, maybe Tera and I will just keep on running far beyond that first finish line.