Day 71: Chest and Back and 5K Run

I bought a mop today. I've been living in my apartment for 6 months and my Swiffer with the one head and and empty tank is being officially retired. I am burying it in the backyard along with the pot with the burnt Sidekick noodles on the bottom and the pint glass with the curdled mystery substance. I also will be throwing out my Kriss-Cross cassette (I bought the CD), poster of Keanu Reeves in the first Matrix, and the hope that Kim Johnsson will grow into a stalwart on the Leafs' blueline (that one's been buried in my closet for a long time). The Brett Hull GT-Racer poster is also gone, but it is in the shop getting framed. As you may have gathered, today is Spring-Cleaning even though it feels like summer outside. 

I moved everything off the floor and I was ready to give it an experience it probably has never had - a good moppin'. That sticky spot in my kitchen that has become a graveyard for an entire generation of ants - I imagine inspiring powerful war-time poetry that will be memorized and regurgitated in ant classrooms for generations to come - was about to finally meet its maker...literally. As I grabbed the mop, Millard and his usual outfit of flannel and awkwardly fitting New Era cap busted through my door, "dude, for one, how awesome is my beard, and, two, it's beautiful out, a perfect day to do a 5K". I dropped the mop - the ants can have one more day to mourn the loss of their fellow patriots - grabbed my shorts, and went outside where I put my shorts on. (I mop naked; Millard now knows that). 

On the days that I run, I plan out what I eat accordingly - lots of carbs, some protein, and some fats. I didn't have that opportunity today; all I had for breakfast was chicken. Just chicken. I don't know much about stuff, but running with only protein in your system might not be a good idea. The first km of the run, shit was bad: my knees hurt, I was starting to feel a cramp developing, and my wiener was rubbing against the hair on my inner-thigh and, no matter how much re-adjusting I did, it was like a pig's tail, immediately going back to its original position smacking right against my thigh. (And, yes, it makes a distinct 'smack' sound due to its gurthiness). The only fun part was passing Millard on his way back, giving every bystander in the vicinity a reason to think we are super-lame. Whatever, high-fiving someone while you are both completely in the air without breaking stride is not easy to pull-off. 

I made it to the LCBO at 10:55, which isn't an awful time considering I only need to beat my best of 21:55. If I kept up my pace, I would shave off 5 seconds. However, I was ruined, flattened, defeated...I had nothing in my gas-tank or reservoir of Nazi-defeating determination. I dug in, pushing back feelings of vomiting, wanting to stop, and wanting throw myself in front of a bus, and made it to about the 4k mark at par with my best time. If the CTV Olympic crew were covering my runs, I would be neck and neck with my digitally-imposed shadow and Brian Williams would be comparing me to Terry Fox. 

At this point, my shadow pulled away from me fading far into the horizon. I was done - I looked like a modern North-American Jew on a Tibetan death-march. I could barely lift my legs for the last 100 metres and I think I might have actually began to cry. I literally fell through the finish line. Time?

23:10

I added 1:15 onto my best time. Dejection, disgrace, and shame, eventually ceding into self-pity. The taste of defeat -- tastes like Prince Igor vodka with a cigarette in it and sounds like someone fucking your girlfriend or significant other.

Afterwards, I had to place giant granules of salt directly into my wounded pride, immediately having to do Chest and Back because I had promised some friends I would drive up to their place by 10. Luckily, this exercise is mainly push-ups, which Millard and I have gotten insanely good at due to the ingenious inclusion of push-ups into video-games. I recommend it to all. It adds more competition, and more reward when you force your opponent for an 8th time that game to do ten push-ups on Gaborik's highlight reel 4th goal. Eat it Millard - I own you in NHL 10.

I sloppily stumbled through this exercise, gritting and grinding my teeth and sphincter as I worked through well over 200 push-ups.

Highlights: That last km was a long highlight unto itself. It was like an audition tape for Passion of the Christ. (And, yes, that is the 2nd time in a week I have compared myself to Jesus).

State of Mind: The run was hell - if that was the experience I had the first time I clocked a 5k, I would not being doing them. That being said, it was nice to see that I didn't just say fuck it and kept pushing. If I want to do any sort of high-endurance activities to test my mettle, these are the experiences that will help. 

Rating: 5K: P77X + C & B: P85X = P81X