Does it ever stop hurting?

I survived another day of training.

I only have one question: DOES IT EVER STOP HURTING???

Knowing fully well that there are people for whom walking and running doesn't hurt isn't a motivating issue right now. The fact is, there is NO time in which doing said activity doesn't leave my legs feeling as if they took a trip down a stump grinder.

Lifting weights is a necessary evil that keeps it possible that I can lift Jared on a daily basis when we are here at the house alone. But that does NOTHING to stop the cramps that occur in the middle of my back for no particular reason unless there are hidden cameras to record that sharp intake of breath and the gasping while I struggle to reach the offending area of my back that feels like it might fall off.

Of course, in retrospect, it might feel much better if it DID fall off.

Today, I endured the savage for half of the walk and took her to the house on the conjunction of the figure 8 that represents the 5k+ distance I have mapped out for the practice in the neighborhood.

I also have a surveyed map for the 5k that is coming up in the historic district. There is a distinct possibility that my Mother's name for the area might apply when the actual event is underway. She always called it the 'hysteric district' because the snooty people who lived there when I was just a child were always up in arms about one thing or another. But come the 20th, I'm hoping the hysteric portion of the area will NOT have my name on it.

Mentally I can see it all. Huddled pitifully into a ditch or lying cramped up in the gutter along Beaty street with the finish line in sight. Moaning.

This image stirs my 'attitude'. You can't tell me I'm gonna fail! I took pre-emptive measures.

I sent an email to the course organizer and obtained the course map and used it to take the Assassin and myself for a 'let's check this puppy out' walk.

While Gypsy was in rare form in her attempts to murder me in front of oncoming traffic on numerous stops for directional shifts, she was unsuccessful and will not be receiving any inheritance - today.

The route itself is no big deal. It weaves through the older section of town like a thread in an ancient tapestry. The distance is no big deal. I have actually now done MORE distance and not died in the attempt.

The big deal is my own level of performance and expectation. I desperately want to do better and NOT pay for it all that afternoon by eating Advil like it was candy and sucking back the G-2 like they will never make anymore.

I want to post a good time.

But the pain factor is a constant. There are few days that I don't have some pain. But you have to get to the point where you realize that 10 out of 10 people die and I personally want more to show for my life than the world's largest naval lint from my years spent as a dedicated couch potato. I have wasted enough time on that activity already.

If I am going to hurt ANYWAY - it might as well be for a legitimate reason I can chat about with the people who actually listen when I talk. Some of the time.

According to calculations, I did 3.73 miles in 1:05 today. And no, that is not minutes. That is an hour and 5 minutes.

The good news is I walked and jogged a bit to get that time. The bad news is that I still have to do it again tomorrow.

But having a goal keeps me focused. I am looking for other 5k events nearby so that I can say 'this is what I am aiming for' and mean it. So that the weights and the treadmill and the street outside don't make me feel guilty, but instead are my friends in this journey of self-discovery.

Of course, if I get to the point that I can do this and it doesn't hurt, I will know I am dead.

Dead people don't feel any pain like that anymore.

But just in case I'm not totally dead, please tie a string around my wrist and attach it to a bell so I can let you know before it's too late and the cocktail weenies are all gone. This, of course, makes the broad assumption that should I be able to become a 'dead ringer' and let you know that you have buried me alive that you would charitably come and dig me up before the funeral potatos and ham are gone.

I may be relying upon the kindness of strangers by this point.

I know how you people are about your dang funeral buffet.

Meanwhile, I'll try to remember that I'm not yet six feet under and continue practicing for my life. I know that our existence isn't a dress rehearsal, but I am SO prone to error, I will require several run-throughs before I get it right.

Be patient. Even the slowest walker can eventually cross the finish line. It may not be a milestone for you, but it is for me.

Meanwhile, I am going to fill up the tub with Icy Hot and marinate.