Ron On The Run
Wednesday - October 03, 2007
I don’t know about you, but my idea of a perfect Sunday is to sleep in, read the Sunday Star-Bulletin over breakfast and coffee, go to church and then do nothing physically significant for the rest of the day. The other Sunday I experienced quite the opposite.
That’s because my wife and daughter signed us up to do the Niketown 5K Run For Kids. Sure, our daughter’s school was the beneficiary of our entry fees, but why did I actually have to do the run? I mean, couldn’t I just pay the fee and get the darned T-shirt without running? Who would know?
My wife and daughter, that’s who. I finally agreed, but only if I could simply walk the 5K. I decided to make the best of it and even agreed to go pick up our entry packets. On registration day they had different stations set up at the Niketown store in Waikiki.
The first step was to pick up our race numbers and official T-shirts. No problem, until the woman helping me commented that she wasn’t sure they had my size. I could see that they had sizes up to XXL so I’m not sure what she was trying to tell me. The next step was to pick up our racing chips.
I walked up and seriously asked what kind was available, “Doritos or Fritos?” They explained it was a microchip that keeps your race time. My bad. Since we had to report to Niketown by 6:45 a.m. on the day of the run, I decided to rent us a hotel room for the night before.
That night, for some idiotic reason, we walked all around Waikiki and must have logged in at least 10K worth of distance. The next morning my wife woke me at 5:30, and I was exhausted. We had to walk from our hotel to Niketown, so that was good for another 2K.
At 7 a.m. the starting cannon fired and we were off. Because I was walking, they put me all the way at the back of the participants next to the people who were pushing their kids in strollers. That was OK with me, until an overzealous stroller-pusher told me to get out of her way. Suddenly the theme from Rocky played in my head. No grandmother pushing her grandson in a stroller was going to better me.
I fell back as my strategy was to “draft” behind her until I made my overtaking move. After a couple of minutes, I hit my Nitrous Oxide mental switch and jetted past her. I had my next target in sight right in front of me. The nuns from our daughter’s school were up ahead and dressed in full habit.
Even though their ages went all the way up to 65, they were making good time. Even in full stride, I could not catch up with the nuns. At the finish line my wife was making fun of me for not keeping up with the good sisters. I explained, “Hey, they have God as their coach.”
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