Night race - daily update blog

After the beer had settled, I got a little of my work admin out the way, and at 22:00 decided to head up to the gym. I pulled out an old pair of (uncomfortable) old training shoes, that I believe were already old when I met my wife (Kerry) 9 years ago, pulled on a shirt and shorts, and headed up to the gym.

Before I continue, let me just slip in a little something about how stupid gym lockers are. The first time I went to the gym, not to sign paperwork, but to actually try some of the fancy machines out, I went along with my pile of goods to store in the locker, and I grabbed a small padlock from home. When I got to the locker, the padlock was too thick to fit through the special locking mechanism, so I ended up carting my pile of "stuff" with me from machine to machine. Kerry was then kind enough to buy me the correct size lock, which got used, and went AWOL, before I returned to the gym. Being very organised, when I was at the hardware the other day, I purchased myself a twinpack of baby locks, which I kept in the glovebox of the car - for this very moment.

Arriving at the gym this evening, I walked in, had to have the security guard re-explain to me the entrance procedure (i could not even figure out which turnstile was "in"), I very smartly walked to the locker room, found myself an open locker (okay at 22:00 they are pretty much ALL open), and when I tried to lock it, discovered that my new locks are exactly 1mm too small, and they will not clasp close, no matter how much force. Being a male, even seeing that all the lockers are identical, I still proceeded to "test" my lock on several other lockers.

I stepped out of the locker room, had a mini cup of the free energy drink from the dispenser (because that would make a difference), and I cased the joint. Fortunately I was one of only six people in the gym. Unfortunately I was not the only person going to be training on a treadmill - there had been some fit guy running from the time I arrived, and he was STILL at it...

I found myself a machine, as far away as I could from any spectators, and got onto it. It did not move. It did not even greet me.

I studied the panel of buttons and displays, deciding that I would figure most of it out whilst on a leisurely jog... Fat chance of that (pardon the pun).

I found the "on" button (it was green and said "on'), and I braced myself to start running. I felt the rubber start moving beneath me, and I took one slow step after the other, before figuring out that it was set to start at 1km per hour, which was a bit slow even for me...

Doing some brilliant mathematical calculations, I figured that if you walk at 5km/h, you must run at about 12km/h, so I held the speed button down and before I knew it, my feet were over-taking me, my posture had gone for a ball of chalk, and if it were not for my chin bumping the emergency kill switch, I would have had a disaster.

Starting over, I increased speed in the increments of 1 km/h, until I found myself doing a semi-comfortable 7.5 km/h. I focused, held the pulse bar and it said that my pulse was 80 (having a pulse is the extent of my knowledge), and commenced with my run. My calves started burning, my entire body broke into a sweat, I started panting, so I hit the "pause" button, as I needed a break.

It suddenly dawned on me as to exactly how UNFIT I am, as I had been going for 1 minute and 20 seconds, and had covered a distance of 0.1 km. Oh No...

Not giving up, I resumed my run, and did not have to press the pause button for another 45 grueling seconds. Mr runner man to my left had a stupid grin plastered on his face, whilst I dabbed myself down with my towel. I decided that seeing I had past the 2 minute mark, I was going to go to the drink station, and rehydrate myself.

Getting back to the machine, I was frustrated to see that it had reset itself, so I had lost my now 0.2 km and 2 minutes. I picked up my pace a bit, to 8 km/h, and started playing with buttons - the incline slope at maximum height is really not so nice, as it saw me having my next break a mere 0.2 km later. My pulse was reading 156 (I am not sure what high score I should be aiming for), and I was panting like a dog that has just returned to his kennel after chasing a cat around the yard 20 times in the middle of a summer heat wave.

Adding up my time, I realised that I had now done 0.5km, or 5% of the total distance of the upcoming race, so I set my goal for the evening, that no matter how many breaks I took, I would not leave until I had run at least 1 full kilometer. The machine even beeped and flashed at me to congratulating me for passing the 200 mark on the heart rate monitor.

Ten minutes later I was back in the comfort of my living room, Kerry sipping on the coffee I made her as I left, as it was finally at drinking temperature, and she looked at me, soaking in sweat, looked at the time, looked back at me with a puzzled look on her face, and said nothing. She thought it funny when I told her I had achieved an entire kilometer.

I got up a few minutes ago, to fetch my mac so I could write this blog, and my calves actually ached, and I staggered through the office, cursing myself for accepting the challenge - if this is what I feel like after 1,000 meters, what is going to happen to me after 10?

Let's see if I am up for this tomorrow... (I blame it on the old shoes)