domingo, 26 de diciembre de 2021

Forgive me father for I have sinned

My daughters challenged me to join them in running 5k at the local festive (running) race.

I said yes without a second thought. 

How hard could it be?

The fact that I hadn’t run in the last 35 years didn’t appear to me a good enough reason to think it was not a good idea.

It actually looked like a great idea. 

So great that I went for a MTB ride this morning. Couldn’t see any reason why not.

My wife and daughters were seeing things from a different angle. For whatever reason they didn’t like my idea of running wearing a culotte (I don't own running shorts). They didn’t appreciate my suggestion of running on my boxes either. Apparently that was telling them I didn’t know what I was getting into.

But I did know. Proof of that is that I insisted on starting close to the front. I wanted to be prepared if there was going to be an early breakaway.

The gun went and everyone started to sprint. 

It only took me five seconds to realise this was going to be more like a Zwift race than an Audax event.

Thirty seconds later I realised I was not going to win. It was either that or getting a heart attack after the win.

Less than two minutes into the race an unknown group of muscles in my legs started to complain. The “shut up legs” mantra didn’t actually work.

About ten minutes into the race I had enough of running and started to look for shortcuts to make a TY.

Probably worried about their father, my daughters were keeping a steady pace.

When we were finishing the first lap I suggested the idea of celebrating at the time of crossing the line claiming victory. By then I was more interested in finishing the torture than in winning but I’d still have taken the win.

My daughters talked me out of it. They probably were claiming revenge for something I have done to them in the past.

The temptation of taking a shortcut was almost unstoppable when I saw Santa was running behind us but quickly closing the gap.

One thing is not winning, something completely different is to be beaten by a not very fit looking Santa. If only I were running on my culotte to have a decent excuse.

As we were approaching the last km my daughters agreed we were going to sprint for the line. They went then on trying to agree on from where we were going to sprint. 

I was paying all my attention but they never agreed on a starting point.

This is going to be a reverse Rupert I told myself. I knew where the finish line was but not from where we were sprinting.

Well, maybe they didn’t have time to agree. At some point, without previous announcement, the youngest launched a sprint saying “goodbye” but with a way dirtier word.

So proud of her! I wonder from whom she got such great racing tactics.

Unfortunately for her I was paying attention. I waited until we entered the final straight and launched my sprint.

Dad 1 - Daughters 0.

Very happy with this (family) win. It would have been perfect if my legs were not so painful by now that I know that tomorrow I won’t be able to walk.

Next year I’ll bring my bicycle. My legs won’t ache so much and it’ll be justified wearing a culotte.

The run in Strava: 

Take care

Javier Arias González