25 meters

When I first joined the swim team of Warren Mott High School 

(Mott Marauders), I could barely swim 25 meters. 25 meters is one pool length. There is not one single event in a swim meet which consists of swimming anything less than one length. Swimming a length of the pool is the most basic endurance one needs to conjure up to be on the team. 

I made it on the team, splish splashing from one end to the other, I even walked for a meter or two. For some reason, they let me on the team.

Four years later...one length became the most basic of things to do. 

It was something one did without even thinking about it. One length was like a rock climber chalking his hands...effortless...mindless. It was like a boxer taping his hands before donning those gloves. The golfer slipping the sock off his driver. A pilot taxiing the plane on the runway. A race car driver iddling in front of Grand Stand 1.  It is how the player enters the field.

Do a length (or twenty), this was nothing for us on the team.When I was nearing my High School career, I felt a need to dip my hands (and feet) into something more, something different. Something on land. So I joined the track team (and the tennis team, but thats irrelevant).

I joined the track team in the off-swim season, 

in hopes of further enhancing my endurance when the swimming season came back. I realized on the first day of practice that I could barely run 1 mile. 1 mile is to many good runners, what 'one length' is for a swimmer.

My difficulties with running were totally mental. This roots back to two events. 

First, I was forced to run a mile in my middle school gym class...and I ran it in 11 minutes. After the completion which, I laid on the ground curled up, with my sides hurting. I was fat.

Second, during those middle school years I was hit by a car that was traveling at about 50 mph. I was not shielded inside the body of another car, I was a pedestrian. This, for some odd reason, induced the doctor to tell me I might have problems being on a track team. At that moment, I assured him I had no such aspirations, for the memory of that gym class mile was still fresh in my mind.

Back to the High School track team, I couldn't run a mile without 

making a face, and soon I got shin splints. Long story short, I roughed it through the track season, but I never was any good (at running). I never went back to running. Unless it was for events which would have a lasting affect on my life, like exams. Wait, I never ran for those. I think I ran after busses. Hmm, maybe not, cause I had a bike.

Come to think of it, the last time I remember running was when a friend called to tell me that Taco Bell was giving away free burritos for the next half hour. I ran for a minute...and then I caught the bus, to Taco Bell.

It was all mental, the endurance showed in the pool, 

but on land, I am a different animal.

I'll try to understand this phenomenon tomorrow.

In 5 hours, I will wake up to get ready for a 3.2 mile race, known as the Turkey Trot.

I did not prepare for this race at all. I decided to partake in this race about 4 hours ago.

All reasoning and logic tells me to decide against this act.

I weigh a lot more than I should...

...ever since I graduated college 6 months ago, I have lived the life of a cubicle dweller.

My BMI is about 27 (definitely overweight)

My body fat percentage is approximately 20% (way too much)

My resting heart rate is about 88 bpm (way too high)

I weight about 188 Ibs (a lot)

I actually have a little belly (I lie...its not little)

So how will I do this? My sides will hurt like no other. The cold air will induce my bronchial irritation, something I have gone to the hospital for! And I will only have slept about 5 hours :o)

All logic leads me to want to decide against this decision. 

So why do it?

Look for an inspirational blog, upon my return from this event which may be a joke for 14 year olds...but no paltry task for me.