A Thousand Times No

Another morning, another 5K event.  Today it involved rising in the wee small hours so that I could catch a train out of the city, where friends picked me up and we headed out to Bucks County Community College.

The weather was less than ideal, only slightly above freezing with a very thin drizzle flicking down from the overcast skies.  Snow could still be seen on the ground in the soil beds that ringed the trees.  I kept debating whether or not to wear a rain jacket, and finally went out with one thrown over another two layers of clothing.

Just before the start of the run, I glanced down at my watch while preparing to search for a restroom.  Surprise!  I had no time for a pit stop before the starting gun.  “You’ll be fine,” I told myself, recalling the countless number of times that Nature had started calling, only to hang up before I finished exercising and got around to answering.

Well, dear readers, you know where this is, uh…going.  I was miserable.  Within the first half mile, my glasses were soaked from the not-quite-rain, and I peeled them off to throw them into my pocket.  Running half-blind without glasses seemed preferable to running even more blindly with them.

But the greater problem was yet to come.  The course was an out-and-back loop involving mostly a long downhill on the way out, with a long ascent on the way back.  Hill descents tend to make my liver unhappy.  I started to develop a side stitch at the halfway point, and it only worsened as I continued.

“Just keep going,” I told myself.  Ooops, wrong mantra.  Not only was Nature calling, but with every footstrike, my body was getting closer to picking up the phone.  Finally, I eased myself to a stop.  Today was just not going to be my day.  The better part of valor was going to be in walking.

Concerned about my sudden disappearance, one of my friends headed back onto the course from the finish gate to find me and accompany me back.  As we strolled up the final hill, he said, “Do you want to go out with flair for the camera?”  I vigorously shook my head before my bladder could pipe up again.  Surprisingly, there were still people coming in as I left the course.

The 5K run was followed by a “health fair,” which was an odd amalgam of chiropractors, energy drink vendors, and jewelry booths.  As with most organized runs, awards were given out for the top three finishers in each age group category.  I was not surprised to hear the name of the fastest and youngest finisher among my group of friends being announced onstage.

But then, in quick succession, I heard my name, and another friend’s, and then another.  Each and every one of us took home an engraved plaque.  We quickly realized that as some of the oldest runners in a small field that had been deeply thinned out by the inclement weather, we were winners just for crossing the finish line.

The more exciting running news came later in the day, when we rolled into REI and discovered that both running shoes and my favorite magic insoles were on sale.  This means that after today, I’ll be hanging up my running shoes very soon — so that I can break in a brand-new pair.

Thus my liver continues its journey of joy and wonder.