Saturday Morning, Day 1

So this morning, instead of sleeping in my nice warm bed, I found myself, with my reading grade deficient 11 year old (progress reports came home yesterday -- 32%!! In reading!! He reads at 9th grade level!! But he forgot to write down in his log what he was reading, more than a few times. But this is a story for another day...) at Shoreline Park, off the Boise River, in downtown. David and I, and oh, about two hundred other folks, all in assorted running gear. The first day of training. Marathon training.

Boise Run Walk is an organization that promotes running as fitness. They say if you follow their training schedule, they can take a couch potato and turn them into a marathon finisher in 28 weeks. Notice I didn't say 4 minute miler. I said marathon finisher. I met more than one this morning. People who said they didn't exercise, didn't run, never done anything like this, and had completed one or two marathons, half-marathons, assorted 5K and 10K races, and the just completed Robie Creek half-marathon, here in Boise, recognized as one of the hardest half- marathons in the country. And they enjoyed themselves so much, they came back to do it again.

Over a dozen coaches, with different abilities, from the under 9 minute runners, to the walkers, there was a pace for everyone who showed up this morning. They covered what we needed to know, went over the training schedule, handed out some tips, and had a lot of laughs. It actually seemed like it might be fun. Even my surly 11 year old laughed at the jokes and said "Mom, this might be OK!" High praise indeed.

Then we took off. A three mile run today, to find your pace group. Lots of calls of "Go slow! Go slow!" It was an endurance run, not a speed run. I was ready! I have been walking for a couple of months, about three miles each time, with short runs mixed in with the walking. I felt good about being in the upper 3/5 of the group. Until my overweight 11 year old started getting farther and farther ahead of me. At first, he was just ahead of me, then a little more. He kept turning around to look at me over his shoulder. And using words I thought I wouldn't find myself saying for many a year yet, I told him, "Don't let me slow you down. Go on and find your own pace." Then he was gone. We were safely in the middle of the pack. I had no fear he was going to get lost, everyone had already associated him with me, and they'd give me updates as we passed each other.

He finished a full two minutes ahead of me, and under 45 minutes. I, on the other hand, came in just over 45 minutes. Did I mention he ran 3 miles on Friday, too? At his school's Fun Run. So, I was feeling pretty bad, with more determinaton to finish out my psychotic idea.

I signed myself up. Me and BRW for the next 28 weeks.