I have signed up for my first 5K and there will be bagpipes. And maybe kilts. There will definitely be beer. I speak of the Indy Irish Festival and its 5K Run/Walk (I have chosen to run). I will not be running in a kilt myself, but several people will be two days later in the Kilted Mile race which will give out awards for Bonniest Knees, Hairiest Legs, and Least Likely to Finish. I don’t think I could win any of those categories, not since I shaved my legs for my brother’s wedding, so I’m sticking to the 5K even though I doubt I will win anything in that either, but damn it I will finish!
I have never run in a 5K race. I’d planned on signing up for one this summer since it seems to be the thing to do when you have lost lots of weight and want to prove your newfound athletic abilities to the world. It seemed a lot less demanding than a half-marathon or triathlon too and didn’t require me to learn how to swim. However, my leg injury waylaid those plans. I’ve been running two miles in the morning the past two weeks without grabbing my thigh in pain, so I think I can get up to 3.1 miles by race day, September 14th. I decided on the Irish Festival race because along with my registration fee I get a ticket to the festival the next day, so I get more bang for my buck than if I was just running to cure multiple sclerosis or ass cancer or something good for humanity like that. This race lets me see sheep herding exhibitions! I even ponied up the extra $4.00 for a t-shirt because if I’m going to run I’m going to get my damn t-shirt. And it’s at night, so I don’t even have to get up early.
The race also gives me something to work towards. The past several days I’ve been weighing in at around 178, which is about 3-4 pounds more than I was weighing-in before Chicago pizza parties and wedding cheesecake carnivals. That’s a lot better than I thought I’d do and there was a lot of fun in those 3-4 pounds. I don’t regret them. There’s part of me that says, “Oh, don’t worry! It’s just a little weight. You’ll be fine.” And that’s true, as long as I rededicate myself to losing weight. Because I have seen people say that three to four pounds is fine and then it becomes five to ten pounds, and then it’s fifteen to twenty pounds, and then oh my God they’ve regained all the weight. So yes, three to four pounds is fine, but ten pounds is definitely not fine. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to let myself weigh over 200 pounds again, unless I’m knocked up or become a competitive bodybuilder. I’d really love to get down to 172 by my birthday in two months so I can finally say I’ve lost 200 pounds without having to stick an “almost” in front of that number. So, back to the trail for me and onwards to the 5K race with tartan and clan tents and bagpipes. Bagpipes!