A Cowboy Running... This Outta Be Interesting

I am not a runner.... I ain't that guy! When I played football in high school, I dreaded the sprints that we would be asked to do at the beginning and the conclusion of practice. HATED IT! It was the same thing in basketball, run, run, run! The coaches insisted that we had to be in shape, but personally I figured we would lose anyway, we might as well just have fun during practice in preparation for the game.

This feeling never changed after high school and into college. I would see people running before, between, and after classes in their running shorts and running shoes. I would scoff at their over-achieving lifestyle. I wore wrangler jeans and boots, if my stomach grew, I'd just have to fight harder to get into the tight blue jeans. I could deal with it.

But a friend of mine began getting into running fairly religiously, and then decided he was going to go and get a PhD in exercise science. He got his wife to buy in, and over coffee I would continuously get into the same conversation with them, they would go on and on about how great it was and how much better they felt after running. "It releases endorphins... It's great for your heart... It keeps you in shape." I would keep to my argument, which I admit wasn't a convincing one, "I don't get the decision of running, I work at a feed yard, I am on my feet all day long, and have a tendency of getting chased down a few times a week from some angry steer or heifer, so I stay in shape!" That was fine until I woke up one morning to find my stomach poking over my jeans waistline a little more than I would have liked, so I gave in to the continual nagging. I was gonna run... on purpose.

Now there is a lot that goes into running than just deciding to step outside and beginning moving your feet at an accelerated pace. There is a lot of prep work... for starters, you have to get running shoes. The only thing I had were about 8 pair of boots and an old pair of heavy worn out basketball shoes from high school, which didn't look too comfortable to run in. Therefore, one afternoon after getting out of church, I walked into a sporting goods store and found a pair of reasonably priced running shoes. I felt like an idiot handing them to the cashier as she gave me an odd look, then to the purchase, and then back to me, as I was all decked out looking like I was running late for the nearest rodeo. A pair of wranglers, belt/belt buckle, a pair of Ariat boots, a fancy button (the snap on kind) shirt and topped off with a ten gallon cowboy hat. I doubt she thought I looked like the running type. (She was right)

Now once you have the shoes, the shorts, the shirt, the music, and the bottle of water; you would think you were ready. But the next step is one of the hardest parts of the run... talking yourself into going out into public and running. I bet I sat in my recliner for a half an hour fighting excuse after excuse as to why I shouldn't go... but in the end I went. I stepped out of my house, looked to make sure no one was looking and began to run. IT FELT GREAT!!!

For 3 minutes...

Then reality set in... All of a sudden, my ankle began to hurt, followed by the ankle on my other foot. Now I probably would have stopped, but at that point I saw 'the public', and I couldn't stop while people were watching, so I continued on. Hiding the pain from anyone watching. The ankles weren't the only problem, about minute 4 my side began to hurt. At that point I couldn't tell what hurt more. I felt like my body was about to fall apart, but people were still around and I was to competitive to give in to a deteriorating body so soon. I was going to continue on regardless of the pain. About minute 6 I found a hill to run down, which felt great going down the hill, it was a heck of a lot easier. So I ran down the hill like I was a pro.

I continued to run until I got to the river, where I stopped for a drink of water and a rest before I was going to run back. I was a beginner after all... I didn't need to over work myself on my first run. After a few minutes I convinced myself it was time to head home.

I started running, and again it felt great, the breeze blew across my face and I was gliding down the gravel road. But it wasn't long until came to a harsh realization... the hill. See what was such a welcome site when I ran down it, was now an eye sore to look upon, I had to run up it. Now it's important to point out my competitive nature here, because I was not going to allow myself to stop, I was going to run all the way home no matter the pain I would encounter. I hit the hill full force with the determination that wouldn't quit. I was a quarter of the way up the hill when I got the thought... running doesn't necessarily mean fast; I could run slower and still be running. So I slowed down! This wasn't so hard... for a few slow running steps anyway. Half way I was determined again... I WOULD NOT BE STOPPED! But at the three quarter mark I was beginning to see a great light... My life was passing before my eyes, I was nearing death in my mind. I began to rationalize stopping, after all is this really how I wanted to die? Running? I wanted to die in a pair of boots, not a pair of running shoes and shorts... and certainly not in public! But I wouldn't give in, I would make it home.

Soon enough, I saw my house, a light at the end of the tunnel. I was going to make it. I told myself to finish strong, to run hard home, but 3 steps of that was enough. I felt what had to be my spleen begin to burst, so I figured it might be better just to finish, rather than finishing strong. Live to see another day.

When I got to the house, I stepped in slipped out of my new shoes, walked to the couch. I was drenched in sweat, my feet hurt, my side hurt... EVERYTHING hurt. So I fell forward onto the couch and soon asleep. Running was for the birds.

Tonight I sit here and I see my running shoes by the door, laughing at me. I ain't giving in that easy. So I'm putting them on and giving this running thing one more chance... well, after a quick thirty minute pep talk.