Ibarra 10K

About a month ago a friend of mine told me there would be a 10K happening in Ibarra. For some reason, I thought it would be cool to participate. I also thought it would be cool to go at it without running a single mile in preparation. Well ok, not exactly. But I kept making excuses for myself as to why I it would be better not to train:

1. It rained; therefore the ground would be slippery and I might injure myself.
2. I would realize I´m really not a runner and punk out.
3. Jersey Shore was on TV.

I started to convince myself that with positive thinking I can achieve anything. So my training involved imagining myself running the 10K effortlessly in about an hour or less. Then, a few days before the race, I started to eat a lot of bananas to avoid cramping.

The day before the race my friend Jenn and I went to pick up our numbers and confirm that we´d be participating. We took one look at some of the competition and something occurred to us. You see, Ecuadorians in general really don´t exercise. But those who do, and those who would pay $10 to participate in a 10K, would probably go at it with serious intensity. We started to prepare ourselves for the possibility that we might actually come in last.

The big day arrived and I was pumped. I spent the entire morning eating more bananas and stretching. I arrived at the event 20 minutes before it started and well, there were far more people there than I had expected. Not only that, but it was about 90% men, all of whome were running warm up laps, jumping around in place, beating there chests and chanting. I however, not wanting to tire myself out, decided to just do some more stretching.

The gun fired and we started off strong. A nice steady pace, a little Hootie and the Blowfish for inspiration…I was feeling like an athlete.

1k down. 2k down. 3k…….uh oh.

Now granted, we hit a hill. But suddenly I started to feel…not so athletic. I reduced my speed, then reduced it a little more, suddenly I realized the police motorcycle men and ambulance that were picking up the tail were right behind me. Yes yes, I was the tail. So I picked up my speed out of sheer embarrassment. I managed to pass a few people, and regain just a little bit of my pride. 3k down. 4k down. Once again, uh oh. At that point my main focus was to continue moving without passing out or vomiting. At one point, I started to notice that the people were clapping as I ran by. I thought to myself, ¨well that´s nice of them¨. Then I looked to my right, and realized they were cheering for the crippled man who was passing me. Effortlessly. At that point I decided my only goal was to finish. At that moment I started to hear ¨MAMUUUT!¨ And there was Javier, running at me with a bottle of Gatorade, trying to control his laughter. He had tried to convince me it was a bad idea, bless his heart, but of course I didn´t listen. I begged him to stay with me. And like a good boy, he did. All the way till the very end. Even though I was wining like a child, and telling him to shut up anytime he said anything encouraging. Fortunately he found it amusing. And thanks to him I managed to place something in the neighborhood of 593 out of 600, with a time of 1:15:39.

At the end of it all, as disastrous as it was, I felt sort of good about myself. At least I tried and finished. And at least I learned before I attempted a real marathon: running is not for me.