Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Army 10-miler or bust.... literally.
A few short months ago, much to my chagrin, a dear friend of mine (not to be confused with the one who can produce convincing fist-phalluses at a moment's notice) was shipped to Iraq, Army-style. Whatever your opinion on the matter, our commander in chief has asked that my pal set aside 12 months of his life to splash around in the sand of Mesopotamia and generally deliver the good word of freedom and democracy to the natives. And he's ok with this. Elated, in fact.
Since my idea of "war time" has been generally shaped by my secret obsession with the battles, philosophies and the movers and shakers of the American CIVIL War, imagine MY surprise when my soldier boy is able to email and IM (and make humorous blog comments) from his middle eastern sandbox. (Ah, if only General Stonewall Jackson had had text messaging... ((I'm digressing to a mental image of Robert E. Lee using those damned annoying Nextel walkie-talkie chirps while he strategized Gettysburg))).
The benefits of his war-time service for me, indeed if there are any, include the possibility of a souvenir (which I'm all about.. the tackiest Iraqi magnet ever..make it happen.. MREs and sand don't count) and the new found friendship with said pal's state-side girlfriend. She's the perfect vision of a war-time woman. She sends care packages, girlscout cookies, love notes, and puts real thought into gifts and other reminders of home. Generally, she's a good woman who's waiting for her man. I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if she's stock piling yellow ribbon and oak trees at home. In short, she's a delight, and I've found my 'missing my best pal' pains kept to a minimum with her emails and phonecalls (geez, you'd almost think I was the one with a boyfriend on the front..).
As if to be meant as a bonus to her already feminine ways, the girl is as perky and bouncy as they come. She's reved up with energy -- and apparently, as of late, has found her outlet. She called me recently to invite me to join her in October for DC's Army 10-mile race. We'd make wacky t-shirts sporting our pal/bf, eat pasta the night before and generally have a good time. Except for one miniscule problem. I don't run. The most I run is to my car in the rain and even that's more of a jog. Sure, I'm quite the regular at the gym, but I hardly run between the machines. But I decided, hell, I like the girl and the Army man. And I'm pretty confident I can con some other people into this with me. And I'm praying the girlfriend is strong enough to piggyback me the last few miles.
I began my training almost immediately -- I have a lot of ground to cover, literally and figuratively. And nursing a sprained foot from one of my first runs, it was a rocky start.
Now, a few weeks in and mostly healed, I am running further (read: 2 miles, don't judge me) than I ever have before and I'm keeping a decent pace. Without sounding like a Wheaties ad, I have amazed myself. Surely 10 miles is achievable.
Besides, if he can sacrifice 12 months away from two pretty amazing women to risk his life daily for the benefit of a needy nation, then I'm pretty sure I can eek out 10 miles on one day through lovely downtown DC in the fall. Just doing my part. I think of it as my athletic victory garden.
I know, I'm such a patriot.
Come home safely and soon!! I just may be able to run over there and get you... eventually.
Since my idea of "war time" has been generally shaped by my secret obsession with the battles, philosophies and the movers and shakers of the American CIVIL War, imagine MY surprise when my soldier boy is able to email and IM (and make humorous blog comments) from his middle eastern sandbox. (Ah, if only General Stonewall Jackson had had text messaging... ((I'm digressing to a mental image of Robert E. Lee using those damned annoying Nextel walkie-talkie chirps while he strategized Gettysburg))).
The benefits of his war-time service for me, indeed if there are any, include the possibility of a souvenir (which I'm all about.. the tackiest Iraqi magnet ever..make it happen.. MREs and sand don't count) and the new found friendship with said pal's state-side girlfriend. She's the perfect vision of a war-time woman. She sends care packages, girlscout cookies, love notes, and puts real thought into gifts and other reminders of home. Generally, she's a good woman who's waiting for her man. I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if she's stock piling yellow ribbon and oak trees at home. In short, she's a delight, and I've found my 'missing my best pal' pains kept to a minimum with her emails and phonecalls (geez, you'd almost think I was the one with a boyfriend on the front..).
As if to be meant as a bonus to her already feminine ways, the girl is as perky and bouncy as they come. She's reved up with energy -- and apparently, as of late, has found her outlet. She called me recently to invite me to join her in October for DC's Army 10-mile race. We'd make wacky t-shirts sporting our pal/bf, eat pasta the night before and generally have a good time. Except for one miniscule problem. I don't run. The most I run is to my car in the rain and even that's more of a jog. Sure, I'm quite the regular at the gym, but I hardly run between the machines. But I decided, hell, I like the girl and the Army man. And I'm pretty confident I can con some other people into this with me. And I'm praying the girlfriend is strong enough to piggyback me the last few miles.
I began my training almost immediately -- I have a lot of ground to cover, literally and figuratively. And nursing a sprained foot from one of my first runs, it was a rocky start.
Now, a few weeks in and mostly healed, I am running further (read: 2 miles, don't judge me) than I ever have before and I'm keeping a decent pace. Without sounding like a Wheaties ad, I have amazed myself. Surely 10 miles is achievable.
Besides, if he can sacrifice 12 months away from two pretty amazing women to risk his life daily for the benefit of a needy nation, then I'm pretty sure I can eek out 10 miles on one day through lovely downtown DC in the fall. Just doing my part. I think of it as my athletic victory garden.
I know, I'm such a patriot.
Come home safely and soon!! I just may be able to run over there and get you... eventually.
# posted by Cathy @ 3:31:00 PM 
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I'm trying to do a half marathon in september and just the idea of it is crushing me! as long as you love the small milestones (believe me, 2 miles is way far) you'll kick a lotta ass.
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