Rain Up My Shorts…

15 03 2009

I suppose as of late I’ve been writing of the happenings of the world around me, and not much of my life. Reason being I suppose is that things are not going as well as I’d have hoped.

I’ll sum it up, because the details are boring, and down right sad.
Finding work, has become very trying. I’m now almost completely broke and getting close to selling my beautiful baby, my car.

However, in the last couple days I’ve actually had some fun even with my “No Fun Embargo of 09.” (While the No Fun Embargo of 09, basically consists of my trying to to spend any money, I thought I would come up with a trendy name like the newscasters do with, well, everything.)

So in my NFE 09′ I have literally tried to do as little as possible for saving money purposes. No going to friends houses, no movies, canceling Netflix, the gym (this is important) and generally honing my World of Warcraft skills to great heights.

My family, with whom I live with in either noticed my NFE 09′ for my dad mentioned some friends of his get together each Saturday morning for a pickup game of soccer. Now, in my lifetime I have known a couple of things.
#1. Playing soccer since I was 4.
#2 The Red Sox since I was 8.

This 2 things are a constant, and pretty vital part of my life. Soccer makes me happy. Playing or coaching. With me in the funk, I quickly jumped on the chance of getting together for some weekend Shenanigans. (Shenanigans is capitalized because it is St. Patrick’s Day Weekend.)

Upon arriving, I quickly realized that I was indeed one of the youngest people out there for some soccer. It was apparent much later in the game, that though I was the youngest, I was probably the most out of shape. 2 straight hours of soccer after weeks of an Embargo can almost kill a guy. Especially me.

I love to think I can draw the line between having fun and being competitive, but I can’t. Not with soccer. I have to win. I have to play hard. It’s just in me. There are a couple of things I do really well in life. One of them is soccer. (Another of them, I would brag about, but I don’t think it’s the smartest thing to do in regards to an open forum and public ridicule. Plus, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a “good game” like I’ve been accustomed to receiveing in soccer for my other skills. But hey, a self high five is still a high five.)

So not to brag, but I scored two goals and felt great. I had a blast. One thing that I can always count on to put me in a better mood, is playing. However, at some point the endorphins in my body decided they had had enough of pushing adrenaline through my body and I realized I am indeed 30, and have been sedentary for a couple weeks. I felt shooting pains in my right foot and couldn’t think of why. My quads were burning, and my back was killing me. I came home and quickly downed 600mg of Ibuprofen and grabbed a heating pad.

I decided at this moment I would find out what was wrong with my right foot. I removed the sock from my foot, and low and behold, a gigantic blister on my foot. It was at this point I remembered I had signed up to do a 5k (3.1 miles) the very next day. I am an idiot.

The Mighty Blister

The Mighty Blister

I awoke at 6:30 am the following day pulling my legs up and placing them onto the floor. It was at this point, I could HEAR the wind howling and the rain hitting my window. I was not a happy camper. I pressed on. I met up with my friend JDub and off we drove downtown to tackle the mighty 5k that was in front of us. Now, if you’ll remember earlier in my post, I have stated all of my medical ailments, and in addition to that I haven’t trained for a 5k. The only training I’ve put in lately, is sprinting down the stairs whenever my mother orders pizza or brings home fast food for lunch.

I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty sure I was in peak physical condition for the task at hand.

The rain and the winds came down as we grabbed our numbers and headed to the starting line. It was packed with tons of people, and tons of…… kids! That’s right. Kids. When people generally ask me if I like kids, my answer is usually (unless they’re hot) “I like kids. Just not yours.” So imagine my displeausre to be surrounded by a bunch of kids. And seriously, what kind of parenting book state you should take your kids out into the pouring rain and wind and run around for 3 miles. In my parenting book that’s just a bad idea. In my day, we had Nintendo World Class Track Meet (complete with Power Pad) to get our running in for the day. And look how my generation turned out.

The race started and the mass herd of people started heading out down the course. I’ve seen City Slickers a couple times and can only compare the start of this race to the cattle drive at the end of the movie. Half a mile into the race the crowd seemed to disperse a little bit. It was here I decided to make my move. I picked up my pace, leaving JDub in my wake and passing people left and right. I felt really good about myself and the run.

Fast forward to about 2.2 miles into an uphill run. I. Am. Not. Happy. For whatever reason every kid that was entered into the race decided, not only to pass me, but to jump into every muther effing puddle I was near. Imagine the shock, when not only did I have to deal with rain coming down upon my head, but indeed flying UP MY SHORTS! It’s a good thing I didn’t go commando. And let me tell you boys and girls, the water was COLD. Really cold. And it would happen roughly every .25 miles. Running minding my own business when all of a sudden… HOLY BEJEEZUS!! Not only did this increase my pace but also my disdain for children.

As the end of the race approached I felt good for the simple fact that even though I really wanted to walk, I didn’t. I persevered to the end. In fact, I felt good enough to start my “kick” and finish strong. However, my legs had other ideas. I picked up the pace and my legs felt like potato sacks filled with bricks. Each step was like taking a weightlifting class in high school, you know, where you added to much weight in case the hot girl was looking. Well, she wasn’t and my legs were dead. I saw the end and it was within my reach. However with 50 yards to go, there was a complete standstill at the end. You see really smart people who finished ahead of us, decided to take of their timing strap RIGHT THERE AT THE FUCKING END! Creating a gigantic cluster fuck and killing my time! You bastards. As we all waited my legs yelled at me for just stopping. Not a cool down jog, or even a walk. I went from running at a fast pace, to stopped. My legs were pissed. As was I. My time was effed.

I cooled down and finally met up with JDub after losing her like a little kid at Disneyland. However, oddly enough (not really) I found her standing near the Beer Garden line. Go figure. I looked around and realized, that I in fact did not want beer. So we went to the sponsoring bar and kicked back Jack and Cokes. Thats right, 3.1 miles. 9:00 am. Sunday. Jack and Cokes.

It’s how I roll.

Upon finding my race time later that night, I’m quite ok with my time. 37 minutes (which I would think is closer to 35 minutes considering the log jam at the end. And considering my propensity towards Carl’s Jr, Little Caesers Pizza, Dairy Queen Chicken Strip Basket with Gravy, that is a pretty good time)

I Barney Stinsoned that 5k and made it my bitch.

Of course after seeing one dude did it in 15 minutes, I felt highly out of shape. That dude however was probably driven by the fact that the winner wins his/her weight in beer. I can’t say I like beer that much.

Until next time…