Cowboy Running... The Beginning

So thanks to a reminder from 'Rambo' (one of my new-found faithful followers), I have the subject for my newest post, which happens to be related to my latest post 'Cowboy Running'; in fact, this is where the real idea of running began, it was also a night I learned that there we're times when I should keep my mouth closed...

It started like many of the conversation's had, over coffee at my friends' home. We had just finished a delicious batch of pancakes and were digesting the food when I picked up a running magazine from the counter and began thumbing through the pages. It didn't take long for the discussion of running to take shape.

Normally in these instances, they would tell me of some running event they had recently finished or an event soon to be embarked upon, in which I would scoff at their notion of me participating in these 'distance running rituals'. But in this instance the conversation took what would turn out to be a fatal turn... we began discussing mile times. I asked what I thought would be a fairly innocent question 'How long does it take you to run a mile?'

(I had no clue that this would prove to be a question that I would soon regret)

Now Erica, (Nick aka Rambo's) wife stated that it took about ten minutes or so for the average runner, in which I immediately disagreed with, stating that I could easily run a mile in less than ten minutes. She wasn't deterred from my opposition, again telling me that a non-runner like myself would struggle just to make it to ten minutes. I laughed at the thought that she could doubt my athletic prowess and again pointed out that I could not only make it under ten minutes, but I could make it under nine. I admit now that had not fully thought through my argument, for it didn't take long for my laughter to stop at her next statement.

"Prove it!"

They had a treadmill in the basement of their home... and it worked. This would prove to me my demise.

Now before I take you through the grueling run, it is important to note of my attire for the evening. Like most social gatherings I find myself in, I was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of tight wrangler jeans. (I point out the the tightness of the jeans not for dramatic effect, although it would surely be dramatic, but more to emphasize how difficult proving it was going to be). It is also important to note that I am very challenge oriented, and once challenged I find it difficult to back down, no matter how daunting the task would surely be.

We walked downstairs toward the treadmill, it sat on the ground facing me, as if it were snickering at the situation I had found myself in... I wasn't amused. Erica quickly showed me how to run the contraption, then to assure the ease at which one could operate it, she stepped on it and began jogging eloquently. I began to think that this was going to be easy and the more she jogged along while continuing to explain the machines many nuances, I was convinced that this was going to be a walk in the park.

Sidebar: I do want to explain my train of thinking... because it's not like I am sit in a cubicle all day long without the slightest sliver of exercise. I work in agriculture, I spend many of my days on my feet walking and in some instances running. I honestly believed I was up to the task.

Once she had fully explained the treadmill, she got off, looked me in the eye, and said 'Your turn.' I remember a mischievous smile on her face as she said it, but I would not be discouraged as I stepped on the the machine and hit the start button. When I did the machine started moving and my feet didn't... well not by my own free will anyway. I nearly fell to my face as my feet got jolted backwards with the running surface's sudden movement. Quickly I jumped back to my feet and began trotting along. Nick and Erica both chuckled aloud at my 'humbling' beginning.

I had finally gotten used to running along with the treadmill so Erica hit the timer button... I was on my way! The first couple of minutes went by without much of a problem, we continued conversing about this and that... I was doing fine and was sure of success on proving myself true, in fact I decided to beat the 9 minute mark by more than just a few seconds! To do that, I took note of a button that I hadn't noticed before... the speed button. (Yet another point in the evening that I hadn't quiet thought through fully.) I began hitting the button over and over again until I was literally sprinting along with the machine, which brought about out loud laughter from my two spectators!
beginning
I was nearing the halfway mark and I was right on schedule and beings as I found myself in good shape I had decided that it might be time to slow down a touch as my side was nearly ready to explode. My fingers neared the button to reduce the speed when I heard the words 'You could make eight minutes!' I roll my eyes even now at my reaction... though my side was hurting, my tight jeans were causing some serious chaffing, and sweat was rolling down my back... I refused to fall short of the new challenge - Eight minutes!

Instead of reducing speed, I INCREASED IT!!! This was a foolish thing for two reasons. 1) Because with the increased speed my side, head, back, legs, arms, neck, and even hair follicles began to shoot with pain. 2) Nick pointed out how I was a person that didn't give in to a challenge. His statement meant that I couldn't allow myself to slow down. So I kept running, my feet moved swiftly along with the machine. I kept my eye to the timer, impatiently watching the seconds tick away ever so slowly. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead... I hit the seven minute mark and I was still aways away from the mile. 'I will NOT fail!' I had thought to myself... and increased the speed even more.

I don't know if I could hear Nick and Erica laughing at the skeptical, but I knew they were... But regardless if I could hear or not, I kept running.... 7:15 ... 7:30 ... 7:45 ... Fifteen seconds left and I was almost home, I hit the speed button and ran even faster. I wasn't sure what was going to break first, the machine or my body; it didn't matter, I was going full bore until I hit my mark. With five seconds left I was at full speed as I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, I might just make it! Nick and Erica were both gathered around the timer cheering me on while I breathlessly fought for the finish line.

Now, I can't be sure as to which I hit first, the mile or the time of 8:01... I like to think that I hit the mile right before 8:01 struck the timer... it gives me a little more to brag about, but in either case I had answered the challenge and had won! ... However ... looking back at the event in it's entirety.... My jeans and t-shirt drenched in sweat, my whole body in disarray, the following two days of stiff muscles, and the forty minute drive home in wet clothes, I have to ask myself... Did I REALLY win?