I’ve found myself, in reasons I don’t fully understand, taking part in a 5K run Saturday morning in Powell County.
I’ve never run a 5K. I’ve never run a 1K. The last time I took part in any sanctioned running contest was in fifth grade.
That was in spring of 1986.
Clearly, this is a bad idea
So why, exactly, am I doing this?
Peer pressure, plain and simple.
I was already heading home to Powell County for my youngest nephew’s birthday celebration, and my sister had previously mentioned this run, but that was a few months ago. I pretty much brushed her off then, thinking I’d have some good excuse come race day, but when she asked again this week, I froze.
When I partially thawed, I found myself agreeing to run five kilometers, despite not having been able to run for the last month or so because of a bone contusion on my foot.
Once my sister started telling me that she would be running in it, my competitive nature started rising – surely I can beat my older sister. I mean, she’s 40, after all. Other family members are competing in the race, including my nephews (ages 14, 12 and soon-to-be 9).
But then my sister unveiled her trump card: our mom is taking part. Oh, she’ll probably walk most, if not all, of it, but still, a 5K is a 5K, no matter the speed.
Thus, I found myself agreeing, like an idiot, to take part. I’ll just turn on my iPod (listening to Born to Run, of course,) and go. I just wish I had my mom’s attitude about it.
“Remember, it is just for fun,” she told me. “I have been telling people to support me – come to my visitation on Sunday, and be sure to bring food for Doc (my dad). Deana (my sister) said people are supporting me because they think I won’t make it. We will see.”