10K Training - A Truly Scary Story

Liars can fib about just about anything and everything, but they can’t be dishonest about whether or not they have actually trained for a run, especially in the light of day when they are at the actual starting line in the blistering hot sun, two seconds away from starting a race. I am a poet, and I know it, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make. My point? Training for a 5K, 10K, half marathon or a marathon isn’t something you can fake. You must do it, and by you, I mean me, and I am doing it because I said I would. DAMMIT! I meant what I said, and I said what I meant, and son of a fuck-nut, a runner HAS to be faithful 100%. And this sort of sucks right now, because it’s hotter outside than a thousand of Satan’s meat farts.

The heat tried to trick me into being a fibber mcgee yesterday.

Fucker.

I woke up bright and early and knew that I should get my run done, but did I get right to it? I did not. I picked up a book, hoping to escape the heat by dissolving into the story, putting off the four miles I needed to run until later in the day. I sat there lying to myself, and for just a moment, myself believed the lie. I was as likely to run later as I was to poop out a baby monkey named Kriss Kross, you know what I'm sayin'?

Run later? Pfffthh....as if!

Put the book down and get your ass up, I said to myself. Runners in training can’t deny or lie. I hate you, you evil masochist, I said back to myself. Hate you more, liar with your pants on fire, myself said back. Myself then told me to quit being a sissy bitch and to remember the reason for running in the hot as hell season. I walked outside fighting with myself all cuckoo-like. It wasn’t just toasty, it was burnt toast toasty, but I had no choice. Run I must! The ZOOMA Chicago Women's Race is on August 10th. I have committed to running the 10K, AND I am a guest speaker, AND dammit - I have only a few more weeks to train! There's no lying in running, but there is crying if you don't do the work. Lots of fucking crying.

Why am I doing this, I asked myself for the 100th time?

Well, because I said I would, and I want to, and I meant what I said and I said what I meant, and if I don’t do the work at 100%, then I will disappoint not only the people who I committed to, but I will have to live with myself and myself doesn’t like bullshitcal fucktards who don’t follow through.

Are you wondering why I am doing this if I’m in misery? Well, I’m not really miserable. All this running is making Nikki feel strong like bull, and my buns are turning into steel motherfuckers! But the main reason I'm doing it to raise money and awareness for charitable organizations. I also want to set a good example for my children and last, but certainly not least, I honestly needed a reason to get back to running on the regular because when I run, I am less of a bitchface. And let's be honest, there is no better way to do this than to be accountable to a higher truth.

So off I trotted, into the inferno, cursing myself for stalling, because holy balls, Satan must have eaten the entire cow! It was beefy beef with extra beef on beef bread with boiling beef gravy hot! But I was quickly distracted from the heat when I heard a horn honk, and someone yelled something I couldn’t make out, but I could see the 26.2 sticker on the back of the car and an arm sticking out the window giving me a thumbs-up.

If you got a car I do! I'll stick to the 10K, m'kay?

If you got a car I do! I'll stick to the 10K, m'kay?

Damn, it was just what my self needed! I told myself that if that beep-beep lady could do 26.2 miles, I could surely run the four I needed to crank out in order to stay current on my 10K training schedule. Satan’s prime rib toots brought me back to reality, but I kept running. One mile in, I saw a toddler sitting in the shade, waiting for his mom to fill up his kiddie pool. He said, “Hello sweaty, running lady! Have a nice day!” I was already half melted at the time, but that adorable greeting turned me into a puddle of goo for just a second. And then it hit me – the kid looked exactly like this (minus the book) -

Awww.....him sew kewte!

Awww.....him sew kewte!

It scared me stupid, you know, because Pet Sematary is a frightening story to read and the movie really brought the terrifying tale to life. It was another distraction, but not a good one, like seeing Ryan Reynolds sunbathing naked would have been. But it was hot and Satan was farting on me, so I'm sure even Ryan would look like this to me -

Sexy, angry, possessed Ryan. Would I keep running? Probably not.

Sexy, angry, possessed Ryan. Would I keep running? Probably not.

But the happy toddler seemed menacing. I blame the heat -

Him want to kill me with him's sharp toy! Him do!

Him want to kill you with him's sharp toy! Him do!

Yikes. Although I knew the little fella wasn’t going to start chasing me and try to chop up my achilles tendons with a box cutter, I picked up the pace just in case. Toddlers can't be trusted, even if they don't have sharp objects and they aren't chasing you. The little shits turn on a dime. I decided to think about good things, to distract myself from thinking about the sweat burning my eyeballs. I had to get my mind right so I could get my run done before I went blind or insane. I was, however, wishing the kid would chase me with a little fan like this -

Can you get me some water too, kid? Nikki's parched from Satan's farts!

Can you get me some water too, kid? Nikki's parched from Satan's farts!

GOOD THINGS, good things, gooooood things, Nikki think about some good things…..

My awesome sports bra was keeping my eyes safe from floppy tit punches.

(Run, Nikki, Run!)

Gage, the homicidal child from Pet Sematary, is not real and not chasing me.

(Run, Nikki, Run!)

But that toddler? Real.

(Look behind you, Nikki!)

“Gage,” the friendly lawn toddler was not chasing me with a box cutter.

(I knew that, but I checked just to be safe)

My heart and body are strong from training. I could outrun the little fucker if he was chasing me with a sharp object.

(Slow down, woman. Think about why you are doing this)

Donna’s Good Things – The charity I am running to raise money for, is real. Donna was real. Keeping her memory alive is important. She can no longer run in the sun, but other kids with cancer still have a chance and if I can help in some way, I must!

So for those of you asking how it’s going, well, I’m not whining and wimping out, and I’m trying to be positive and loyal. I’ve made a commitment and although Satan is a carnivore who blasts raging hot flaming, white-hot meat farts all throughout the Midwest summers, I realize that those farts are stinky lies, trying to stop me from being honest. I will run from them!

I will do this. I said I would and I meant what I said. I am doing this 100%.

So if you want to run this race, you only have a month to get your sorry ass in shape, and that’s no lie. You can’t fake your way through a 10K. Register by clicking HERE if you are a masochist and want to join me in hell, running until your flanks foam and your ass chafes. The official charity partner for the ZOOMA Women's Racing Company is called Every Mother Counts. Check them out please, as they are another very good thing.

If you are merely a sadist, you can make a donation to Donna’s Good Things, letting them know that Moms Who Drink And Swear sent you. This is THE way I'd appreciate you showing your support for Donna's family and their efforts to keep her memory alive and help others. Yes, I’m doing this for me, but I am also running for Donna and every other person who has been touched by pediatric cancer. Another truth: raising awareness and fundraising for pediatric cancer helps me live my life in a more authentic and grateful way.

 

Donna Quirke Hornick July 20, 2005 - October 19, 2009.

Donna Quirke Hornick July 20, 2005 - October 19, 2009.

 

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