by Kevin Tetter

Created on: September 01, 2010

The first time doing just about anything is usually a memorable experience, and running my first race was no exception. It was the mid 90’s, and after immersing myself in muscle magazines for about a year, I found myself too bulked up for comfort. Yes, my size reflected my strength, but for me, it was just too uncomfortable being that big.  Jogging seemed like a good way to knock off some of that bulk, and as it turned out, a very enjoyable way. After several months of running, I was ready for my first 5k race.

The race was being held at the famous Universal Studios, and we would be running the back lot past some notable movie sets. Sounded like fun. I had run the 5k distance on a treadmill several times, but this would be the first on concrete. Would there be a difference?  Certainly the environment would be different, but my main concern was what kind of knee and leg battering would occur on the street. My training philosophy was that if I could run 5 miles on a treadmill, I could do 3.1 on the street. Being a novice runner, that philosophy was concocted out of thin air and had no scientific basis though.

It was cold that morning, probably in the 40’s or low 50’s. California cold, sure, but with nothing but shorts and a tank top, a little nippy. My brother’s girlfriend decided to go along, not because she wanted to race necessarily, but because she wanted to beat me. It was friendly, but at the same time, she did want to win. That was okay; I was happy to run with someone.

There was less pre-race hoopla than I expected, and after a while we lined up to race with a few thousand of our good friends. The gun went off, and we were underway. It was an easy pace for the first ¼ mile or so. My brother’s girl kept up easily, and had a little smirk on her face, as if she was going to embarrass me that day. Anything was possible. Suddenly, the relatively flat course turned into a steep hill. In my visits to Universal Studios as a tourist, I had no memory of a hill like this. My brother’s girl fell back at that point, and it was just me and the road. It felt good as the top of the hill approached, but at the top, the road took a turn and continued upward. Now I was starting to labor, with every cigarette I had ever smoked being revived in my burning lungs. Scaling that leg of the hill pushed me to my limits, but as I got to the top, the road took yet another turn, and continued upward. My number one rule-my only rule

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>