Lucas’ 10km Race
Let me set the scene for you: November 29th, 2008, Montevideo, Uruguay. 6500 people of all ages and from all over the world (Yeah, we even had South Korean guy!) gathered to run the Nativa M4 10 kilometer race. Not to be overly egotistical (Or as they say in the hood, Stapesy), but I’m going to forget about 6,499 of them and focus on just 1: myself.
I’m Lucas Rodriguez and this was my first race.
Before I get to the race itself, let me talk about my preparation for a bit. What, you thought I’d go right into the details? It’s like those porn videos on megaporn that start with the sex already underway and a minute later, BAM! Money shot. Awful. Nah, I don’t do that.
So anyway, for those who don’t deal with kilometers, let me just say that 10K is 6.2 miles. The closest to that total I had ever ran was 6.4 km, or almost 4 miles. So yeah, I was worried. Worried I’d reach a point where I just couldn’t go anymore. Worried I wouldn’t be able to finish. So many things go through your head. I seriously doubted myself in the days leading up to the race. Maybe I’d break down, maybe I’d try, circumvent inoculation and I just want a cut … where was I? Oh, right.
My preparation was basically doing some running 3 times a week, between 3.2 km and 4.8km. No more, no less. I think it’s pretty good. However, in the week of the race (Race was a Saturday) I had exams Tuesday and Wednesday. So yeah, that week I didn’t do much, only a quick run Thursday (3.2 km) so I wouldn’t be so stiff Saturday … but yeah, definitely a lot less than I’d like.
So, to recap, my first (and biggest by default) race of my life and I wasn’t mentally or physically where I’d like to be. Fantastic.
The week went by quick. I passed both exams (Thanks for asking), I’m closer to being a psychologist so I can find out the answers to questions like “Why is Hole so surly” and “Why does Juices_World have no friends?”, but I’m still ways away.
The day leading up to the race I wanted to make sure I ate right. I had pasta that day and the day of the race itself. I’m not running without my carbs. I also downed about a gallon and a half of water between those two days to make sure I was hydrated.
Nothing exciting happened the day of the race - I even decided not to masturbate to save all my energy! (You should try it, Ormie). That is until the race itself. No, not that I masturbated during it, that it was exciting. I may have poor sentence structure but you know what I meant, right?
So at 7:30 PM … I started running. Well, me and 6,499 other people. We started running.
First kilometer … no problem. That’s when I started thinking “Only 9 more to go! Uh, despite the fact you’ve never done more than 6.4″. Ouch.
Second kilometer and now I was getting into a groove. All the people cheering you on is a nice change of pace from when I run by myself and it’s all monotonous. It really does give you an extra boost. What I felt was better though, was when my fellow racers actually shouted encouraging words. That really made me want to do good.
Third kilometer, and I was starting to feel the heat. At the fourth one there was a stand with lots of cups of water, so I grabbed a couple and kept running. Drank some, then poured the rest on my head. I was all wet and stuff (No homo)
(Ok, maybe a bit)
(Aw, fuck it)
During the fifth kilometer I was feeling good. That is until I got to the middle of the sixth one. As you may recall, 6.4 is the most I’ve ever ran … and I felt it. That was it, man, I thought I was done. I felt like I had given my all and there was nothing left, but I kept running. Never once did I think about not finishing this race on that day. It was just impossible to think about. After I got through this rough patch, I said to myself “Ain’t no stopping me, noooow”.
Seventh kilometer, got more water. Feeling a bit better, but I knew I was done.
The 8th and 9th kilometer were pure agony. I’m not going to lie to you. If I was running by myself, as in, you know, not in a race or anything, I wouldn’t have been able to do it … but I did it. I did it, and it’s something I never thought I would do. Never once did I think I’d end up doing running, not in my wildest fantasies. Three ways with hookers, playing soccer in England, and delivering pizza in Hawaii have been dreams of mine … but running? Nope. So I’m glad as hell I started doing this, and I got my reward:
But what’s more important than the medal is that I learned that I could do it. With the right mindset, preparation, will … I can do it. That’s the biggest thing I learned. I’m ecstatic and can’t wait for the next one.
My official time:
I honestly thought I’d do it a little slower (I was thinking more like 1:10) so I’m pretty happy with 1:02. However, I’m not happy with some of the people that beat m, such as Frank Baxter, US ambassador here in Uruguay. Beat me by 10 seconds, this bastard. He’s a good guy by all accounts and runs pretty often. However, um …
He’s 72. Yikes.
So I guess that’s my motivation for the next race. Beat a 72 year old. Oh yeah, and maybe prove to myself that yadda yadda yadda …
