Return of the Hate Ray.

Let me explain something before I begin. The Hate Ray is a term a friend of mine coined when we worked together on the “front lines” providing technical support. It refers to something that goes on in my face/ attitude when I get to do something I am really not enjoying and I can see no way out of it. What happens is I become like a Cylon warrior from the old Battle star Galatica television show. My eyes roll back into my skull and a red light roams from side to side across my forehead until it fixates on a target. Once it acquires a target what spews from my mouth is a combination of complaints and curses best described as a cross between Yosemite Sam and Sam Kinison with a touch of Terrets syndrome.
So Saturday I am going on my first run and I have my new sparkly shoes on “The Silver Streaks”. I check the time and it is 12:11 I wave to the wife and kids with a big smile and promise the dog I will take him next time. As I walk out to the starting point (which I decide should be at the end of my dead end road) mostly because I am not sure I can make it that far and how deflating would it be if Brian and Stephanie have to call Amanda because I have passed out from exhaustion less than 100 yards from my door. Or equally deflating would be to be out of breath right in front of their house and they would know how lame of a runner I am. So I walk out and I see them in their garden and I wave smiling because I made the right choice. I walk to the end of the road where I decided to start then I look at my shoes? Okay shoes let’s do it? Nothing happens. I think my shoes must be defective. These shoes are not going to do it for me? Lame I paid good money for these shoes! Fine I’ll do it myself then!
Off I go running down hill and I make it just a little ways (a block and a half) before I have to walk because I am so winded. The neighbor’s dog is barking at me and trotting towards me (at this point he probably sees me and thinks I look more like a wounded herd animal than a Triathlete in training). I reach the corner and begin to jog (a happy little Spring Bok frolicking thru the Savannah) oh this isn’t so bad I might be able to do this to that next telephone pole. After reaching the pole I am again heaving and winded and walking on starting to wonder why anyone in the world would keep doing this. I reach the corner and in front of me is a hill. What’s this? Just as I am getting tired this running thing is getting harder! This is pure punishment from the GODS above who have taken a personnel interest in me just like they did to the Greeks in the Odyssey.
On I run up the hill another couple telephone poles. Now this is getting bad, the woods are no longer pretty, and I am foaming at the mouth. I think here is when my eyes begin to roll back inside my skull and my HATE ray begins scanning for targets. Of course I am out in the pastoral countryside with nothing but nature to look at so I have no targets. I begin to feed on my own thoughts then fixate on how I got here and whom I should blame. I am running through my “Blame Storm” as I turn the corner again and jog another two telephone poles, reduced to walking again because of another tiny hill and I am so winded I can’t even spit right! I think of all of you who have ever said they enjoy this. All of you who ever told me it was fun. All of YOU who encouraged me to participate in this insane hellish activity. LIES! It was all LIES! Now I am marooned out here with no one to blame but my gullible self. AAAHHHHHHHH the horror of it all. I reach the top of the next hill and now the road goes down. Maybe I can? I am filled with renewed hope. I prance like a the young Spring Bok heading down the hill with a surge of energy. I can’t imagine going around twice or ever being able to run for a whole mile but for this brief down hill slope I am FREEEEEEEEE. I make it three telephone poles but I am sucking wind so bad they can probably here me at the ferry dock. I walk to the next corner and now I am on the street I started about two blocks from my dead end street. I try to run 50 yards and then I have to walk again. I reach the street home and what! What is am doing? I pass by and begin this entire mile circuit again. I am such a fool, what is my problem? Am I becoming a demon like these other people I know. As much as I hate it I really do want to cross the finish line before dark. I have this part of me that will not let me stop. I am wondering what my body will do before it internally combust.
2nd mile was a constant battle with my own self doubt and disbelief. It went something like this.
“You’ll never make it” but I kept going “You can’t run another step” but I hobble on looking like a wounded monkey from the “Watering hole special”.
“Your leg is going to come unhinged and fall off” I mange to make it the the next turn and around another corner.
“You chest will explode” walk a little more .“Your chest will implode” jog 30 yards with my legs screaming at me.
Make it in the front door at 12:51.
For today I have to be happy knowing this is the most running I have done is 28 years.
20 minute miles are probably not going to work. 60 minutes for the swim + 120 minutes for the Bike + 80 minutes for the run = 260 minutes which is 4 hours 20 minutes.
There is no light at the end of my tunnel.