It was kind of sad actually, I used to peek at those fit ones running beside me on the treadmills and pace myself with them, if not, try to outrun them, with that “see-who-stops-first” mentality. But for that run that happened a couple days back, I was pacing myself with err, bigger sized participants.
The route was like crap – even though it is going to be the F1 Grand Prix race track. It was narrow and bumpy. Not a good route for a run with 10,000 participants. I grimaced each time a sweaty body slid past me. Which is countless. Gross.
I was congratulating myself while into my 2KM, “Hey, not bad. I’m still holding up although I’m like a tortoise.” But of course... I didn't get to jog all the way. (._.)
And when I did finally finish the race, I was relieved. I didn’t activate a string of wailing sirens, at least.
And then I had one & a half Western main course meals topped with a dessert after the run. Jalepeno at The Flyer. Not surprised if I turned out to be unhealthier at the end of the day.
I didn’t think I would run so I didn’t even warm up. Bad move. My thighs felt like lead the next morning I woke up. And now, they hurt so bad that I couldn't exactly put my legs together and I need to prop myself up with my hands when I use the toilet bowl. But I couldn’t help then but jog when I saw everyone in front of me do so. It had been so long since I sweat buckets like that.
And needless to say, JX nagged at me.
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