I successfully dodged one of them. I was supposed to go for a run with a friend on Tuesday, but ended up dogging with Fiona and a bunch of strangers (see previous post for gory details).
However, I wasn't so lucky the next time. I met up with Inspirational Steve for a coffee on Wednesday. He lived up to his name, and encouraged me to go to a running session at a local triathlete club that evening. I weakly responded with a standard, Stage 1 "Oh, but I'm not feeling well because of my Diabetes". He actually responded with "Diabetes? Pah!". I didn't realise that people still say "Pah!". And had forgotten that Steve is also Type 1, so excuses like that just will not work with him. So I went for Plan B, the tearful Stage 2 "But I'm even slower than the "slow" "fat" triathlete, and will be left behind", followed by a well-placed sob. Inspirational but slightly annoying Steve then pointed out that it's a track session, which means that all you do is run around a track lots, and therefore it's impossible to be left more than 400m behind anyone, even the fastest runner. He was right of course.
The track session is at Withdean, a sports centre with a running track that used to be the home of the mighty Brighton and Hove Albion. I'd been there a few times before, normally after a couple of drinks before the start and some chips at half time.
I had no idea what to expect (although I was pretty sure that there wouldn't be any chips at half time, or even a half time). I arrived late because I'd gotten lost on the way. Yes, I know that I said I'd been there a few times before, but never sober or unsupervised. The first thing I did was get in the way of a sprint race - people shouting "Track" loudly means, apparently, "get out of the way, numpty, or we'll trample you to death". There was a bit of a warm-up which I had managed to successfully avoid due to being late, but then the "main event" started. We were told to sprint round the track twice, take 2 minutes rest, and then repeat. Five times.
I looked around for a small fat one with one leg shorter than the other, so I could try and keep up with them, but to my horror realised that the only person fitting that description was me. And I know I can't keep up with myself no matter how hard I try.
However there was a relatively short woman with a similar sized bottom to me, which gave me some hope. She also had unfeasibly large boobs and was obviously not wearing a bra, so I had an advantage (well technically two) over her.
It wasn't humiliating. It was worse than that. It was like when you're at school and they're picking teams. I used to be one of the last to be chosen. And then told that my position was "left back ..... in the changing rooms".
Yes, bouncy castle woman was slow. She was slower than everyone else by a long shot. Everyone else except me. Even she lapped me four times.
I'm ashamed to say that I actually cried a bit, I felt that humiliated. But then I remembered from my school days that crying shows weakness. Oh and also now I'm a grown up and I had actually CHOSEN to be there and be humiliated. So although I was curled up in the foetal position mentally, physically I was running round that track. At half of the speed of everyone else. And for half the distance of everyone else. Even bouncy castle woman. I'm sure she took out a few other runners at one point with those puppies.
So I plan to have a long talk with myself, grow some balls, get some thick skin and go back next week, SMILING. But slightly deformed due to the new skin and appendages. I need to work off the calories from all those chocolate cheese pancakes. Oh and the pub round the corner does a smashing midweek carvery.
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