That's right, it's Flying Pig Weekend -- that grueling 26.2 mile run up and down some fierce hills from Downtown to Newport to Downtown to the East Side to Adonis to Downtown. People are dedicated, train for months, sometimes years, and run their little butts off.... just to end up at the very same spot they started at.
For me, running seems like such a silly idea (as do treadmills, read on). I figure, if you're not running from someone or something, then running, in general, is treacherous and awful to your body and may kill you in the end. I remember reading a study once that running along a busy street is equivalent to smoking three to four cigarettes. So, I cut my losses, sat on my front porch, pulled out a pack a cigarettes, and smoked three or four as I watched the silly people running below me. It's always worked out really well.
Treadmills, too, seem absurd. In the words of the Divine Miss M (extra points if you can name the movie), "You keep walking and walking and walking and you don't go anywhere."
My sister was a cross country runner in middle/high school. The sport was boring. I mean, mega-boring. You knew who was going to win very early on in the competition, the standings rarely changed, and, if it was going to be competitive, it occurred in the first five or the last five minutes. Really, you were just sitting on bleachers waiting for someone to pass out or collapse of something awful like heat exhaustion -- after all, running is a summersport, and I grew up in the Deep South. I tended to find myself with a cool wash rag over my forehead and a pop in my hand in the shade somewhere bitching about the heat. I can't imagine what would drive anyone to want to do something silly like run through that.
I know I didn't.
And, now, it's the season of flying pigs, and it is the goal of so so many to be able to make it. Faces of pretty people are on the cover of every magazine -- CinWeekly is covering a group of people training for the first time (I'm sure City Beat is, too, but, unfortunately, I don't see much of City Beat anymore) -- and the front page of this Saturday's (and Sunday's paper) will have some witty, silly headline that ties in -- "Hog Call" or "How many pigs can fly?" or "And they're off!" or something equally absurd.
The more I grow up, the more I realize local news is the same everywhere: generally bad.
And so that's why I'm going to be training for the 2009 Flying Pig Marathon.
What-what-what? You say.
Recently, I've rediscovered my gym -- that place that was once called Gold's but is now the equally obnoxious title of "Urban Active" (in fact, I say it's even more obnoxious because there is no easy way to abbreviate it -- "I'm going to Gold's" made more sense than "I'm going to Urban Active"). And I like treadmills... to an extent. I've found that by pumping out gay anthems along the lines of "Sexual Revolution" and "I Will Survive" and "No Day But Today" (not to mention anything by Pink or Donna Summer... but not Madonna, sorry lady) I increase my speed and my desire to go further by about 0.5mph. That is, from slow to less slow. Urban Active cracks me up though. First off, it's filled with meatheads -- which I am not disparaging, they provide for quite the eye candy. I get to, meanwhile, wander around as the fatty who is trying so hard to lose weight and "boy aren't we proud of him," while every body in the room is thinking "oh look, there's the resident fatty, there joking around with other fatties." Second off, Urban Active wants so bad to be cool. Have you been in one? Pumping music, lots of video screens, catwalks, and sleek looks to everything. I'm convinced they purchase their workout equipment to fit the style because I can tell you, I don't have six pack abs and I've been at least twice this week -- LOL! Third, the homosexual undertones at any urban gym, well, urban white gym is amusing to me, despite the desperate attempts to hold onto the last shreds of heterosexuality that are available to sweating, grunting men in next to nothing screaming at each other "oh yea, push it harder this time."
It's kind of like any professional wrestling or fighting competition.
Back to the point, however, when the whole heart situation came up, I asked the nurse if I could work out. In fact, I asked specifically what would my limitations be. She had two points that remained with me:
1) "Well, it's not like you're an athlete or anything, so we don't have to worry about you passing out during basketball practice or anything." -- Thanks, bitch, you're a fatty too. Let's be fatties together and not judge, thank you.
2) "Just don't go trying to run any marathons or anything." -- If anyone knows anything about me, it is that the quickest way for me to do something is to tell me I can't (and, by default, most of you now know this and so the method is a failure if you ever try it).
From there spurned a little seed: I want to run a marathon. Damn my stubbornness, but I've got AM on board with this one and, well, it looks like we're going to be training for a marathon. Most of all, we like how it sounds when we tell people:
Oh, no more dessert for me, I'm training for a marathon.
Instant respect and instant "I want to sleep with you" eyes. Oh yea. Twice tonight and once in the morning.
Of course, all the doctors at work are advising me to go to the doctor first -- which, of course, I will, I have a cardiologist appointment in the next few weeks and I will take to him my potential plans for marathon-running and the future of running in QitC's life. I don't like it much, either, but I can actually jog for upwards of half a mile when you've got Macy Gray in my ear at full volume -- or, Jerry Springer: The Opera, for that matter. I can jog, and that's quite an accomplishment.
AM and I, realistically, set up this goal:
We will participate in the 2009 Flying Pig Marathon -- making an honest effort at training -- and run at least 10 of the 26.2 miles, non-consecutively, if necessary.
And we have a subgoal:
We will run a 5K race by October 24, 2008(convenient date, isn't it?)
We figure that if we can run 3.1 miles (5K) in 6months, then we have that to go from, and we can train to run the Flying Pig in spurts -- ie, run 3.1 miles (3.1), walk 3.1 miles (6.2), run 3.1 miles (9.3), walk 3.1 (12.4), run 3.1 (15.6), walk 3.1 (18.7), and then run at least 1 more mile over the next eight. That's the plan, at the moment, at least. Now, we may get to that point and find we're able to run 5 miles at a time. OK. We'll do that then. But it's about setting realistic goals, right?
And, besides, I'm sick. (HA!)
There is the option to start a blog on the Flying Pig Website, so, as soon as it becomes open to the 2009 bloggers, I'll start one over there, but, for now, this is all we have.
Last checked, I was 210 pounds (this was Tuesday, April 22 @ the Western Hills Urban Active). I can make it over an hour on a treadmill between 3.5-4.5 mph... which is not good. I will be posting weekly updates about the weight loss and new goals every week on here. And we're starting a new category... IN SHAPE. So watch for the first posting in a week (or so) times.
2009 Flying Pig -- oh god, oh god, oh god -- here I come.
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