Mortal Minds (a sequel)
The contemporary melodies of modern adult pop appeared in yet another one of my whacked out dream sequences. I was about to accept John Mayer as part of my dreamscape when Eager, the unpopular lobe of my Brain, suggested it was time to wake up.
"6:30Am on a Saturday?!?" Lazy cried.
Logic then reasoned, "Eager has a point, we must have set it for good reason."
" -- To remind us we have another 4 hours to sleep" Lazy retorted (ironically quite sharp and active for this time in the morning)
"Remember no class this week" added Procrastination, pushing my arm out to hit snooze.
Memory, often slow to rise, then sauntered into consciousness, made a few confirmations and promptly took control of the situation.... A couple hours later, I find myself standing in a crowd wearing shorts, three shirts and a knee brace wondering if I have enough time to pee.
It is race day, first one in 7.5 years. Taking a quick glance up the road, I decided to make a dash for it. Careful not to drop my keys conveniently laced into my shorts, I found a bush which would offer adequate shelter.
Returning to the crowd, I am relieved and relieved to find my teammate has yet to appear. The next 30mins were spent standing in a cold communal 'keep your clothes on' shower, performing some kind of new age dance in a poor attempt of defrosting my body.
Lazy and Comfort had now begun a full on campaign against signing-up for anymore relay races. However, before they have finished their convincing appeal, a small speedy lady in a blue shirt rounded the bend. "Number 90" a voice chimes, stepping out of the crowd I tear the wrist strap out of Cynthia's cold hands and my legs subconsciously whisk me away on a 15km journey to Mission's Town Hall.
The first obstacle was a set of switch backs which scaled 150ft in a matter of a 0.5km. Adjusting my determination touque and lowering my head, Lazy took a seat in the back of my mind waiting for an more appropriate time to make an appeal. In his own interest, Competitive suggested the hill was an ideal time to select a runner to pace with.
As I began searching the field in front, I heard approaching footsteps on my tail. A few seconds later, I had found my man. An older man, tall, experienced and wearing shorts over his tights. When you will be spending the next hour staring at the guys butt, Instinct believed the shorts were arguably the most important factor.
The next 30mins I remember little but following a speedy bum up hills and past many small clusters of slower bums. However, Endurance soon piped-up and reminded me that I had missed 2.5 weeks of training* and thus my body could not continue this intense pace for another 30mins. Easing off the throttle, I soon found myself by myself. I was tired, thirsty and some crazy distance from my finish line. Generally not a good thing.
But, thank goodness for teammates who care. Just as Lazy stood up to make a motion for a light jog, a small lady stepped out of a black BMW to cheer me on and hand me a drink. Up to this time, Hope was expecting only to get the water that I could catch while running with my mouth open.
It was like the Dam at Stave Lake had sprung a leak, the wall of doubt began to crumble. "Water is good" the delusional Logic reasoned, "People you know are watching" Added Pride. Soon most other lobes joined in the chorus restoring my spirit. As the water hit my lips, my body soon followed suit.
This same cycle repeated itself a couple times, Cynthia was there each time to kick my butt in gear. Finally, I rounded the bend revealing the second of two course markers -- "1 Mile To Go" -- I'd been running for 8.5 Miles to see that sign. I don't remember much that occurred over the next 7 odd mins. But, I do recall every muscle nerve fiber was making its plea for a hot shower and an hour long massage.
As I entered the exchange, I felt my cold wet hands pass on more than just a timing chip. A feeling of freedom and release engulfed my mind, I had served my sentence. ** After receiving the congratulations of my peers, I slowly regained consciousness and I had a tired man's celebration; I made my way home to fulfill at least of one my muscles requests. ***
The duration of my day was spent eating, drinking, and stretching between my feeble attempts at finishing the week's homework. I did end up getting it all done. Although, I'll hate to review my work tomorrow because I was never able to focus. I couldn't stop wondering why my Mortal Mind has already decided to sign-up this Mortal body for next year's race.
Notes:
* ---- See previous post Mortal Bodies
** --- point of interest Mission municipal Hall is right beside a GVRD correction institution with its own private goold course.
*** --- Mike's muscles have yet to receive a massage and are still requesting one.
For those who care Race Results are at http://www.bcathletics.org/H2H/results04.htm
(Mike ran Leg 3 for the Creo-s-printers)
"6:30Am on a Saturday?!?" Lazy cried.
Logic then reasoned, "Eager has a point, we must have set it for good reason."
" -- To remind us we have another 4 hours to sleep" Lazy retorted (ironically quite sharp and active for this time in the morning)
"Remember no class this week" added Procrastination, pushing my arm out to hit snooze.
Memory, often slow to rise, then sauntered into consciousness, made a few confirmations and promptly took control of the situation.... A couple hours later, I find myself standing in a crowd wearing shorts, three shirts and a knee brace wondering if I have enough time to pee.
It is race day, first one in 7.5 years. Taking a quick glance up the road, I decided to make a dash for it. Careful not to drop my keys conveniently laced into my shorts, I found a bush which would offer adequate shelter.
Returning to the crowd, I am relieved and relieved to find my teammate has yet to appear. The next 30mins were spent standing in a cold communal 'keep your clothes on' shower, performing some kind of new age dance in a poor attempt of defrosting my body.
Lazy and Comfort had now begun a full on campaign against signing-up for anymore relay races. However, before they have finished their convincing appeal, a small speedy lady in a blue shirt rounded the bend. "Number 90" a voice chimes, stepping out of the crowd I tear the wrist strap out of Cynthia's cold hands and my legs subconsciously whisk me away on a 15km journey to Mission's Town Hall.
The first obstacle was a set of switch backs which scaled 150ft in a matter of a 0.5km. Adjusting my determination touque and lowering my head, Lazy took a seat in the back of my mind waiting for an more appropriate time to make an appeal. In his own interest, Competitive suggested the hill was an ideal time to select a runner to pace with.
As I began searching the field in front, I heard approaching footsteps on my tail. A few seconds later, I had found my man. An older man, tall, experienced and wearing shorts over his tights. When you will be spending the next hour staring at the guys butt, Instinct believed the shorts were arguably the most important factor.
The next 30mins I remember little but following a speedy bum up hills and past many small clusters of slower bums. However, Endurance soon piped-up and reminded me that I had missed 2.5 weeks of training* and thus my body could not continue this intense pace for another 30mins. Easing off the throttle, I soon found myself by myself. I was tired, thirsty and some crazy distance from my finish line. Generally not a good thing.
But, thank goodness for teammates who care. Just as Lazy stood up to make a motion for a light jog, a small lady stepped out of a black BMW to cheer me on and hand me a drink. Up to this time, Hope was expecting only to get the water that I could catch while running with my mouth open.
It was like the Dam at Stave Lake had sprung a leak, the wall of doubt began to crumble. "Water is good" the delusional Logic reasoned, "People you know are watching" Added Pride. Soon most other lobes joined in the chorus restoring my spirit. As the water hit my lips, my body soon followed suit.
This same cycle repeated itself a couple times, Cynthia was there each time to kick my butt in gear. Finally, I rounded the bend revealing the second of two course markers -- "1 Mile To Go" -- I'd been running for 8.5 Miles to see that sign. I don't remember much that occurred over the next 7 odd mins. But, I do recall every muscle nerve fiber was making its plea for a hot shower and an hour long massage.
As I entered the exchange, I felt my cold wet hands pass on more than just a timing chip. A feeling of freedom and release engulfed my mind, I had served my sentence. ** After receiving the congratulations of my peers, I slowly regained consciousness and I had a tired man's celebration; I made my way home to fulfill at least of one my muscles requests. ***
The duration of my day was spent eating, drinking, and stretching between my feeble attempts at finishing the week's homework. I did end up getting it all done. Although, I'll hate to review my work tomorrow because I was never able to focus. I couldn't stop wondering why my Mortal Mind has already decided to sign-up this Mortal body for next year's race.
Notes:
* ---- See previous post Mortal Bodies
** --- point of interest Mission municipal Hall is right beside a GVRD correction institution with its own private goold course.
*** --- Mike's muscles have yet to receive a massage and are still requesting one.
For those who care Race Results are at http://www.bcathletics.org/H2H/results04.htm
(Mike ran Leg 3 for the Creo-s-printers)
posted by neseirf ekim at 11:24 PM
3 Comments:
Laughed out loud. Numerous times.
:)Peaeater
What an entertaining post! :) This had me laughing out loud: "When you will be spending the next hour staring at the guys butt, Instinct believed the shorts were arguably the most important factor."
Mike! I soooo enjoyed this blog! It was a really fun read. Keep up the good posts! I can identify with lazy...completely.
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