I ran a 10k race on the hottest day of the year.

[britspin]

Cliff notes at the end, if you find reading a struggle, monger.

Recently I've been trying to get a bit less fat by employing the novel strategems of eating less deep fried lard and occassionally venturing out of doors.

This has involved numerous terrifying encounters with such implements of torture as "treadmills" "salad tongs" and "vegetables"

Since I've been exercising, I've also spent more time than I like to admit in the havens of [censored]-eroticism known as changing rooms. Thanks to this experience I can authoritively tell you that male pubic hair trimming is far more common than it was back in junior school.

The reason I was enduring all this because i was entered for a 10k road race. I decided on 10k because it was long enough to get a medal, and short enough to be not to result in my death from sheer physical exhaustion.

I was scheduled to perform this feat of physical mastery yesterday. What follows is true, mostly.

Sunday morning dawned right on schedule, with the blazing sun unveiling a purely azure, totally cerulean sky. For the hard of reading, this textual artistry means there wasn't a damn cloud to be seen and it was going to be hot. Damn hot.

After being woken from my slumbers by an insistent prodding from my girlfriend.

Oh, get your minds out of the gutter....

After the prodding, I got dressed.

Now, when running, We all know doing well isn't about exercise, or training, or stretching, or other non-manly topics.

It's all about the kit. To run well, you need an expensive shirt, good shoes and most important of all, tight shorts that allows everyone in a hundred yard radius to see the impressive bulge of your manhood.

Sadly, in my case the battle of the bulge has always been won by my stomach, so I was looking forward to swaggering to the start line with my manliness proud and free.

After one of the most interesting public transport journeys ever (I just want to say Hello to the polish girl who was sitting in front of me at eye level when I stumbled forward during a sharp right turn. Thanks for not pressing charges) the Girlfriend, my tight shorts, my manly appendage and I all arrived at the start line. Well I say at start line, but I mean 7,000 people behind the start line.

It was at this point that I turned to my darling, and enquired, not-so-sotto voce, "where are all the fat people?". I had expected that runners would be a reasonable cross section of humanity, but I could see skinny young people, skinny old people, skinny muscular people and skinny people in stupid outfits, but a dearth of the lardies I wanted to see waddling towards the front. My self confidence sagged. I began to fear for my target of finishing in the top 5,000.

Then, after a start enlivened by the mewling of some failed pop star, we were off.

Now it's hard to describe a run. I mean, you're basically putting one foot in front of the other as fast as you can, and a bunch of other people are doing the same thing, with varying levels of aptitude and ability.

As a result, you overtake some people and some people overtake you, repeat for each kilometre. It's hard to make this a fascinating narrative, pulsing with drama.

So I will reduce the race to the essentials.

It was hot. Really, really hot. Hottest day of the year, nudging 30c.

Probably two thirds of the race was in full sun. This was unpleasant.

There was one water station. I got to do that thing where you pour a bottle on your head because you are so hot. This was cool, though I was, as aforementioned, hot.

I saw five people collapsed by the side of the road. News reports said it was nine collapses in the end, unfortunately for this report, no-one died.

I probably could have gone a bit faster, but needed to preserve energy, because it was, indeed very hot.

I managed to beat a chicken, but apparently a man dressed as elvis and the cheeky girls (bottom based, moderately succesful rumanian born pop novelty act) were ahead of me.

Lots of people stopped running because it was hot, and walked round instead. This slowed me down, so I wanted to shout "RUN, YOU GODAMN PANSY WEAKLING" at them. But I didn't.

When we got to the finishing line, I had to stop myself racing to the finish so I beat my girlfriend. This makes me evil.

I finished in 59 minutes, which I was delighted with because, as it's possible I've said before, it was really, really hot.

I sweated so much that at the end of the race my eyes stung so much that I couldn't see.

I got a medal, and felt very worthy. After we finished, we got our medals, stretched, got our bags, and sat around for a bit, when we eventually deiced to go home, 40 minutes later, some people were still finishing. This is clearly where all the fat people went.

I was insufferably smug afterwards. Next challenge will be a half marathon.

Cliff Notes: I ran a race. It was hot. No, really it was. My shorts were very tight. I am great, but not as great as people who run marathons.

[sman]

30c=86 degrees faranheit right?
Thats hot but its not incredible. I guess for England maybe but jesus.

[Drew16]

weak. my wife just did a triathlon and it was about 90 degrees.

[UncleRemus]

[ QUOTE ]
weak. my wife just did a triathlon and it was about 90 degrees.

[/ QUOTE ]

Yeah? Well I used to have a pentium chip, but someone told me to try athlon, and it ran at 120 degrees.

[MicroBob]

Yeah, 86 fahrenheit isn't that freaking hot.

I ran a 5k in 1997 in southernish Florida when it was 98-degrees. It was the hottest day of the year for that area too and I had zero sleep the night before and felt like crap but I was committed to running the damn thing.

Race coordinator told all the racers beforehand that this was not a day to try for any PR's.
I said to the person next to me, "PR's??"
She said, "Personal records."
Oh. Guess the guy without the fancy shoes and running garb is the newbie to racing.

Practically passed-out afterwards. Really struggling to breathe. Seriously, I was in pretty bad shape.
My friends (??) took pictures.

[britspin]

Thanks chaps.

I love OOT's seriousness.

Just some quick responses.

a) Did some of you spazmoids miss the fact I'm a fatty Mclardarse?

So it's hot in texas/florida/'nam/your mother's ass/hell? well guess what, I got you beat cos I'm covered in several inches of blubber.

I'm better insulated than Al Gore's loft. Gotta spot me 15 degrees for that.

b) Your wife is damn tough. Nice.

c) 10k>5k. Also, Southern Florida is gay.

All of it. Except the pensioners. Much respect if you're a pensioner, now I think about it. Also, mads props if you're a gay pensioner. You fought the man so you could love the man.

[meccaNES]

it's like 1125235123562 f every day in texas...you're a pussy

[Yeti]

brit,

Ignore these guys. It was so hot, man! Nice time. Prod your girlfriend once for me.

[willie]

there was just a local 10k, 3 africans were flown in to destroy the competition- they beat the best local by 3 minutes



the one kenyan runs 5:00 miles for an entire marathon....if you don't run then you have NO idea how nasty that is.

[PITTM]

the fastest mile i ever ran was 6:34 [img]/images/graemlins/frown.gif[/img]

rj