heading into summer i wasn’t quite sure that my fitness level was where i wanted it to be. every spring i want to run the chicago marathon, because my dad’s run like 7 marathons and it’s every little boy’s dream to be bigger and better than his father, isn’t it?
every spring since this ‘i want to run a marathon’ thing got into my head i’ve been invited to a wedding on the marathon weekend, thus deflating my already admittedly fragile motivation and morphing my pre-summer work-outs into less than impressive attempts to run past the bar down the street.
anyone who runs knows that there are thresholds you reach when you run regularly. i consider 3-milers the first one…it’s a pretty comfortable level for the average human body to run and it’s one i’ve never really fallen below, even at my most unfit. it’s also a good distance to get rid of a hangover, which fits nicely with those periods during which i’m drinking away the Unfit Blues.
i was really at more of a 5-mile level heading into this summer, so i won’t claim this year was a bad one heading into our warmer months…i’ll throw a nod to cheatah gym for charging me $50 a month all winter for my upped fitness come spring.
nonetheless, i was again deterred from the marathon plans when my cousin picked her wedding weekend.
so what did i do?
i joined like every recreational team in chicago.
no joke. it’s getting ridiculous.
mondays i play volleyball down at the beach. tuesdays i play soccer up on the northwest side. wednesdays i play soccer somewhere i couldn’t even find if i didn’t give teammates a ride to the field (so…anyone need a ride tonight?).
pile on top of that a 6-mile run 3 or 4 times a week and long weekend run and kickball charity events and weekend beach volleyball and i have a few conclusions:
i’m getting old.
my legs effing hurt. they’re not sore…they hurt.
co-ed rec leagues do not, in fact, result in dates or girlfriends.
my rainbow collection of team jerseys is complete, and i no longer need any rec league t-shirts.
people in rec leagues are WAY too competitive about it. just accept that i’m going to win.
thank god i’m not running a marathon.