One small step for man, one long MILE for me

I don’t know if you know this, but I have an amazingly efficient cardiovascular system.  I’m talking Lance Armstrong grade stuff here.  Without the rumored doping.

After months of being out of the gym I forced myself to stop by the Y before I headed home.  I would walk on the treadmill for a half hour.  Just needed to get the blood pumping so this machine known as my body will stay up to par.

I do not run.  I do not like running.  My superior cardiovascular strength could handle it, but I’ve made a personal decision.  No running.

So I’m walking.  And looking around.

I notice the man on the treadmill next to me.  He is a tubby fellow.  Middle aged.  And out of breath.

Out of breath because he is running.

I’m 25, not tubby and practically Lance Armstrong’s fitness twin.  If dude could run, I sure as heck should be able to, too!

Not one to pass up an internal challenge, I start running.

I’ll stop when he stops. 

A quarter of a mile.  Dude is still running.  Dang.

Half a mile.  Seriously?  He is still going?  I start to feel my double bacon burger from lunch. 

.51 miles.  Dude.  This is ridiculous.  Chubbers can run.

.60 miles.  I’m going to fall.  My knees are going to buckle.

.65.  I’m going to die.  I’ve never gone this long before.

.66.  Ok.  Focus on parts of your body that do not hurt….  Your arms!  Your arms are fine.  Focus.  And breathe.  Please, God, let me keep breathing.

.75  Focusing on the arms has been working, but they’re even starting to hurt… think about your ears.

.80  Just stay in the moment.  Feel your feet as they hit the ground.  Find the rhythm.  Find your rhythm.

.90  Dude, I’m going to die if you do not stop running.  “Do not let Chubbers win” is my internal chant.

.95  Despite not being as physically fit as me, I have to give him props.

.97  Yeah, this game was fun .97 miles ago… but I’m gonna have to call it quits at a mile.

.98  I wonder if this is a little bit how Hilary felt when she had to let go of her 2008 presidential dreams.  Solidly more qualified than her opponent in many areas, but for some reason only known to God the opponent is able to squeak by with the W.

.99  This has to be considered torture.  I wonder if John McCain had to run a mile in Hanoi…

1.00 Holy crap!  I ran a mile!  I am as awesome as Lance Armstrong!  I need to throw up.

One whole, no stopping mile. 

Hot dog.

I’m awesome.

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