Slow Group of One

There’s a crumpled sheet of paper in my car with Wednesday night’s “meet & greet” 5km running route.

It’s no longer damp from having it in a death grip in my fist but the multiple dirty creases tell the sad tale of me re-opening it every five minutes.  More important, it’s a reminder of a very important lesson I learnt on Wednesday:

• Never ever-ever-ever-ever run when you desperately need to wee.

Waterworks

But let’s start at the beginning…  I’m doing the Old Mutual Two Oceans Half Marathon (yes, me… who couldn’t run for longer than 30 seconds a year ago) and the good people from the Sports Science Institute’s OptiFit programme are putting me through my paces so that I can finish it in one piece.  Or, at least, they’re trying to.

It started off pretty civilised… a very informative and inspirational workshop on Monday night, followed by a quick health screening on Tuesday and a 12-minute fitness test and meet-and-greet run on Wednesday, which is where the wheels came off.

Warming up... see the guy in the yellow? He lapped me. TWICE.

The 12-minute fitness test was fairly simple:  Run around the field at Westerford High, move a rubber band from your right wrist to your left, every time you complete a lap.  So I plugged in some tunes, did a quick stretch and trotted off, staying hot on the heels of the guy in front of me while Eminem was rapping away in my ear about being angry and wanting to call a doctor.

By round two I started feeling a slight niggle… I needed to wee, but being all polite in the company of strangers there was no way I’d cut my test short.  12 minutes have never felt so long.  I ran. I walked.  I took long strides and came to a short shuffle.  The guy I started with lapped me twice! But my need to wee didn’t go away and all the shouts of encouragement didn’t help either.

Six (or was it five? or WAS it six?) laps later my 12 minutes were up and I had a chance to get to know some of the group better while the rest started their fitness test.

But in the midst of all the nattering and getting to know my new running buddies, I kinda forgot to go to the loo.

When Tori called us together for our 5km meet-and-greet run I joined a bunch of friendly ladies – including one who claimed that she couldn’t run nor liked the very thought of running (remind me next time to not be so gullible) – and took off at an easy pace…

Hardly a block later my bladder sent a message to my brain that she needed to go.  Immediately.  And the rest of the run became the slowest, most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever done.  Every step… every foot strike on the road was a reminder of what my body needed to do.  I started looking at the world through yellow tinted glasses.

(Oh, and a word of warning:  Make sure you carry R2 coins when you run because some establishments will rather have you pee on their floor before opening the toilet if you can’t pay to use the facilities.  Did the look of manic desperation not mean anything to them??)

So while I was shuffling along alone, with poor Tori check up on me every few minutes, I came to realise:

I was, officially, the slow group of one.

My first group run fast became one of the most embarrassing moments I’ve had in a while and I can only hope that Saturday’s 12km training run will be better.  Oh gods… I don’t want to be known as the “slow one in the back”!!

Tori & Greg. She looks so sweet and innocent but I have a feeling she is going to make us cry.