I thought it would make me feel better. Stronger. Faster. As if I had accomplished something incredible.
Last weekend I participated in the Run or Dye 5K. Even though it said ‘5K’, the track only ended up being 2-point-something miles. If I’d known that, I probably wouldn’t have let myself walk part of the way.
Okay, I probably still would have walked that one hill. It was pretty steep.
The event itself was a lot of fun. My friends and I got to the starting line and danced like dorks while waiting for the run to begin. We had homemade tutus on and I was PUMPED. I took off way too fast at the beginning, but slowed down when I realized I was using all my energy too quickly.
The color stations were silly fun, all those people just showering me with colored dye.
It was HOT. And I was a bad (BAD) runner. I didn’t hydrate before the run. By the time I got to the halfway mark, I thought I was going to keel over. I grabbed a water bottle, drank some of it, and then kept going.
By the time I saw the crowd of spectators waiting at the finish line, I made myself run the rest of the way. Across the finish line. Where my friends were waiting (What can I say? I walked more of it then they did. I was ill prepared.). We were covered in colors. We took pictures and then headed to the DANCE PARTY. We danced like dorks and then there was the color explosion. At the count of ten, everyone in the crowd emptied their packet of color into the air.
It Was Insane!
For a moment, it was as if I was immersed in just a cloud of color. I couldn’t see more than 1 or 2 people nearby. The sky disappeared.
Then, slowly, the color started to fall and I could see again. A crowd of multi-colored people. Everyone dancing and laughing and celebrating.
It was fun. Like, a lot. My friends want to do more runs. They want to work up to a 10K, and then the half-marathon at DisneyLand in January. I’ve finally convinced myself that I want to do it with them.
I mean, why not?
But I didn’t have some crazy change of heart. Doing this didn’t make me feel stronger, or like I can accomplish anything. In fact, it was a bit of a disappointment. I had a bit of heat exhaustion and didn’t even manage to run the whole thing (it’s not timed or anything…but I had expectations of myself).
I’ve read so many posts from other people who decided to become runners, and how it really transformed them. I’m not just talking about the ones who become physically stronger, or lose weight. I’m talking about the ones who come out the other side feeling…different.
I’m still the same Rox. I still don’t enjoy running. I still want to enjoy running. I still have a lot of work to do on myself.
I don’t regret a single thing about participating in the event. It was fun, and I’m glad my friends convinced me to do it.
I just know that I need to stop having high expectations. I can’t expect one small little 2-point-something mile run to cause some incredible epiphany. I am too much of an instant gratification type of girl. I need to just be patient and keep at it.
Then maybe I’ll start to see some changes.