The Gazelles of the Serengetti

Last night was my first experience with my Walk- To - Run- Club. I didn't die, clearly, but seriously, I just barely didn't die. Granted, its been a few "weeks"(read: months) since I have worked "running" (read:walking) into my workout routine. As I had been focusing solely on swimming since the last triathlon. But, I seriously hadn’t expected to be as bad as I was.

The program only has 12 people in it. One would think great, only twelve people, all the better to get more individualized attention. True, but definitely not enough people to blend into a group either… like when you want to die and slow down for a second and hope they don’t notice. Not like an oversized huffy puffer in a pee yellow tshirt (the one from the previous triathlon- it’s the only one long enough to cover up the jiggle in my wiggle when wearing spandex pants) really “blends” into a group anyway. Of the twelve of us, there are only 3 newcomers. The other 9 did this same program in the summer session also, so even the huffy puffers of the first group, have a leg up on me.

For some perspective… if the twelve of us were a pack of gazelles on the Serengetti …. I’d be the one that got eaten. Maybe I’d get lucky and the lioness would pass me by because she knew I wouldn’t be gamey and tender enough to her liking… but most likely, I’d be dinner. And while the lioness dined on me all the other beautiful gazelles with their long legs and perfect gaits would just keep bouncing along, their gorgeous manes flapping gracefully behind them as they effortlessly made it across the plain.

Damn gazelles. Who am I kidding, I’m not a gazelle. I’m a platypus, at best. A platypus? You wonder. I’m awkward, don’t really fit in on the land, love the water, but not entirely equipped for a life completely submerged, either.

I’m in over my head. As I "run" (read: walk/shuffle/gimp), every fiber of my body tells me to quit. The whole workout last night, all I could think was “I’m sure I could get my $75 bucks back… it’s only the first session. And then “yeah, I don’t really need to do the Hot Chocolate 5K, I mean, Triathlon season is a year away… do I really need to start working on running now” But as I pushed through the pain of being an out of shape huffy puffer, and made it back to the running store, and all the really nice gazelles told me what a great job I did, and how I just need to keep coming back, that its hard but eventually I will get there… I know that no matter how much it hurts, and how much I currently loathe it… it will get easier. Perhaps I’ll never be a beautiful lean gazelle, but maybe I can work my way up to like a Clydesdale.