Wednesday, February 23, 2011

I am so mad at my parents right now.

About a year and a half ago, in anticipation of spending Thanksgiving with my siblings at our parents' home, we planned to run a 10k. I emailed my dad and said, "You should do this with us!" And after some self-doubt, he threw himself whole-heartedly into training. He even got a snazzy outfit. Cute! My dad is adorable, right? The night before there race, as we carbo-loaded, a friend was incredulous that my dad was going to run that far. "What's next?" he asked. My dad laughed it off and said, "NOTHING. I don't even think I'll keep this running up. It was good while it lasted."

He is such a LIAR.

So there I was last summer doing my own runs and such and toying with the idea of a longer race, or maybe just another 10k, when my dad proudly (and rightly so) emails that on his birthday he ran 6.5 miles. Couple that with having just watched the Marathon episode on "The Biggest Loser," and within days I was registering for a 10-miler.

Because I can't let my dad outrun me! He's my DAD. Getting whooped by your Dad is only cool when you're under 15.

With only 3 weeks to train, I told the lovely Sylvia what I was planning on doing. She slowly nodded and said, "Well then. We need to run 7 miles this weekend, and 8 miles next weekend, and then we'll probably be fine." She will never know how much that response meant to me. Then she said, "Should we set a goal?" Doh. I knew she meant time, but I said, "How about: 1) Finish. 2) Not die." And from miles 9 to 10 I was as close to NOT fine as I've ever been. Every footfall an effort. Every breath precious. We finished (alive) and even a few seconds shy of our goal. And I wondered if I would ever do it again.

When the lovely Sylvia mentioned the 10-miler a few weeks ago as something she'd like to do again, I shuddered. That last mile still hangs heavy in my memory.

But then, my mom casually mentioned, "Oh, did you know your dad is going to do a half marathon?"

WHAT the?!?! FRICK.

Turns out, my MOM is going to do it, too.


My mom is an animal on her bike. She logs oh, I don't know, at least 150 miles a week. And she meets with her and my dad's trainer at least once a week. Don't even get me started on the trainer/gym stuff. But she has always said that she couldn't run. Biking was it. And I don't bike. We can stay in our respective corners.

But she DIDN'T!

My sister messaged me a couple days ago:
"Also, did you know that MOM ran 3.25 miles last week without stopping?"

So. I did what was only natural:

Goals: 1. Finish 2. Don't die. 3. Forgive parents.

I am so mad at them right now. Furious.


Sarah Burgoyne said...

Oh man! That's intense! I'm rooting for you! Is that enough exclamation points?!

Christina said...

WOOHOO!!! You are going to do awesome. If I weren't going to have a brand new baby at that point, I would join you. I can't wait to hear how the training goes for you. FUN!!!

That cracks me up about your parents. I hope I am like that when I am older.

Lisa said...

Oh man, this is awesome. Both of my parents are more active than me, and I just cheer them on while I eat ice cream. Your way is much better.

laura said...

Seriously, they are the WORST. But you will be great. Is Sylvia running it with you? I'm going to send you my training schedule! Wheeee!

Angie said...

I think you should stop while your ahead:) I'm not sure in what, but you know what I'm saying.

janine said...

You are crazy! But that I'm sure it will be fun! Nothing like a little competition.

PaloAltoCougar said...

Well, as noted, YOU started this. BTW, your mother and I aren't doing just any half marathon, we running through Disneyland, California Adventure, Angels Stadium, and possible the Mayor of Anaheim's bedroom, with a giant pasta feed in the Magic Kingdom the evening before. I figure if I start to stagger, Ariel or Aurora will step in to revive me.

Sorry I don't know how to embed the link....

Sarah said...

By all means, drop the "your" and just call her "Mother."

My only saving grace is that my race is a couple weeks before yours. And it's supposed to be a gradual downhill (though we're starting at 10k feet) so maybe I can roll the last mile or two.

I'm still mad at you, though.

Jess said...

It's true, your parents are probably the most fit real grown-ups that I know. I say this as I pick out all the chocolate chips from my trail mix...