I printed out my confirmation sheet for my half-marathon, which is coming up in just a little over a week. I was a bit confused at first, though, because it had my wrong age. I’m not 28.
Then it hit me. Oh, yeah…I am.
My body is probably the fittest it has ever been (thanks, running!), but I see age in other places, specifically – and most sadly! – my stomach. I used to brag about my iron stomach. It took everything and kept going. There’s a certain hamburger joint near the campus that was notorious for serving the greasiest food in north Louisiana. Upperclassmen warned the younger ones not to eat there unless they planned to be, ahem…busy for a long time. Me? I didn’t even notice it was greasy. I could put down a burger, fries, and milkshake without blinking.
Now? Oh, I feel it. While I still eat whatever I want, I feel it more. A diet coke before a run? Bleh. Hot jalapenos covering a burger? Oh…I felt that last night. ALL last night, as a matter of fact. But I love jalapenos so, so much. The hotter, the better. But they do not agree with my stomach as much as they used to.
It also didn’t help that I ran five miles on a treadmill set at 1.5 incline right after all those yummy jalapenos. Boy…that was a hard run.
I would like to brag a little bit. I’ve still got it – somewhat. In preparation for this halfie, my running partner and I have been running our long runs Sunday afternoons. This past Sunday, a few friends wanted to go to a well-known burger place after church. I, of course, could not turn that down.
This burger place, though, is well-known for its delicious plates…and for its wait time. I had my run scheduled for 1:30 p.m. My meal – a nice-sized burger and steak fries – came at 1:12 p.m.
I am a fairly fast eater in general, but I downed that burger in record time. I gave myself eight minutes to eat…and finished in seven. AND ran 11 miles starting at 1:30 p.m. Without barfing up my guts, as my husband predicted.
Yeah, that’s called being awesome.
Thankfully, though, that particular burger did not have jalapenos. Otherwise, my husband might have been correct in his prediction.