The Tyrant Runs a Marathon
Well, 1/5 of a marathon, to be exact. And most of it probably won't be running.

A wise friend of mine recently said, 'no good can come from running.' I believe that to be true.

A month or so ago, I committed to joining four of my friends in a team relay running of the local annual marathon. For some reason, I thought this would be fun. I'm an athlete. I'm generally in good shape. How bad can 1/5 of a marathon be? I watched the whole marathon last year. Surely watching it gives me an extra edge in running part of it.

Then I remembered: I am not a runner. I am a biker. In fact, I don't like to run. I have bad knees, bad joints. Running makes my knees and hips ache. It's boring. It takes too long. And it's just plain hard. I don't run for all of those reasons. And probably more.

Biking is much easier on my knees and joints. It moves faster. I don't get bored. It's fun.

I'm not sure what I was thinking when I joined the running team. I must have been woo-ed by the honor of being asked.

Anyway, it soon became too late to back out. And once I commit to something, I am loyal til the end. Plus, I don't like to lose. I could not justify wimping out of the situation. So I decided to jump in head first, get gung ho about it, and be the best 1/5 of my relay team that I can be.

Plus I figured if I still suck at the running part, I can focus my attention on comic relief and being an inspiration to my team mates. I'm much better at that, anyway.

The fact that I don't run puts me in the position of being a very poor runner. I can bike circles around anyone, especially if they are standing still. Running? It's a foreign world to me. My body freaks out. Even when I'm in the best shape I've ever been in, running is hard. I dread it.

Not to mention, when I'm not in the best shape (as I am now) running is even harder. Funny how that works.

I decided I needed to get in shape, getting out and running a bit, if I was going to be able to keep up with the rest of my team. Unfortunately, I only decided this about a week or so ago. This has forced me on a crash training plan to prepare for the race in two days. Training diet, exercise regime, and all that mumbo jumbo. I am a focused running machine.

Of course, I seem to have developed the Plague within the last twenty-four hours. Sore throat, chest pain, coughing, runny nose, the works. Not entirely serious, yet. But by Sunday morning, I should be good and diseased. This has hampered my training regimen, in that after two days of focused getting in shape, I was too weak to lift the television remote last night as I laid semi-passed out on the couch.

My brain was working out. But my body just said 'nope.' I couldn't argue with that.

We, as a team, have already recognized and decided that I am the weakest link on the team. It's best to just go ahead and say it outloud and accept it. Therefore my place to run is at the number three spot, right in the middle, so the people before and after me can make up for my slow time.

Of course, the person who runs before me has an injured knee. She is literally crippled, and she will run better than I will. The person after me does not run, either. Yet she will run better than me, too.

And now that I have the Plague, I will take 'weakest link' to a whole new low, never before witnessed at a professional running event. Serious athletes will whiz past me, yelling at me to get out of the way. Small children will run circles around me, pointing and laughing as I'm panting and wheezing. Old ladies with walkers will kick me as they teeter by me, heckling and cackling ahead of me to the finish line.

The one silver lining to boost my enthusiasm to make it through my chunk of the race is that we had t-shirts made. We are Team Phoebe, inspired by Phoebe Buffay of Friends, in the episode where Phoebe runs. Our shirts are blue. Phobe is on the shirt. They are great shirts. I can tell you are jealous.

And, I've requested to have a Krispy Kreme donut awaiting me at my last mile. Near the ambulance would likely be the best place for that.

Even if I have to walk the whole way, I will do it proudly in my shirt, for the goal of a Krispy Kreme donut, after a hard week of training and suffering through the Plague.

C.T.