The 10K

“Thank God, it’s over.” – Neil Cusack, 1974 marathon winner
 

Yesterday, I took part in Pacekids’ Race for Pace, a 1K walk, 5K walk/run, and 10K walk/run.  I decided to walk the 10K.  Little gaffers with motor disabilities are some of the most sweetest beings in the world, and I wanted to be a part of a charity that helped overcome some difficulties the families may encounter.

After watching the 1K walk/superhero parade, and seeing the outpouring of support for people as these little guys walked with their various aids across the line, I was reminded of why I decided to do it.  Sure, it’s a challenge for me personally, but it’s also representative of something we think little about: the use of our arms and legs.  So, with that fresh perspective, I lined up with the rest of the supporters.

 

 

 

 

 

The first couple of kilometres went well.  After all, several times I week I would walk 3-4K during my lunch hour.  Eventually, I broke off from the 5K walkers, and headed out with little path company.  I followed the path as marked, and discovered us 10K-ers were to take the Weaslehead.  I began walking down, not too concerned, because it seemed like the hill(s) I have near my house.  Then I turned the corner.  Now, I wasn’t in the presence of mind to take a picture of the hill, or my face, so the following is a re-enactment.

They want me to climb what?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By that time, my socks (which I thought were anti-blister) was starting to create a blister on the bottom of both my feet.  I was alone on the path, with several people running the opposite way with words of encouragement.  Yah, the runners were encouraging the walker.  I felt like I should say something back, they were about the run up The Beast Of Glenmore Park, but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was “blarph, gaagogh fwwfe”.  I (finally) reached the turn-around point, and headed back, knowing each step drew me closer to TBOGP.  I was needing inspiration, a new pair of feet, wings, even.  Then, a guy walked past me the opposite way.  He had some motor disabilities, and he was trucking along like a star.  I smiled at him; he smiled at me.  I stuck out my hand, and he gave me a high five.  Inspiration given.  Sure, my feet were killing me, I had a stitch in my side, and my hands felt weird, but all those were fixable.

So, I went up the hill, gasping and wheezing, and holding my sides.  My stride slowed down a bit, but I made it without my heard bursting in my chest.  TBOGP=conquered.  8K down, 9K down.  My feet were still really sore, and when I passed my car in the parking lot, I looked at it longingly.  If only I could just drive through the finish line.  But then support group arrived, and walked with me the rest of the way.  And the greatest news?  I was making amazing time.  2:01.  I had no concept of time when I was doing the walk, but I thought I was longer than that.

With the walk over (and most of the people gone home), I went to my car – with the help of a golf cart.  That’s when I realized my deep dark secret.  Walking 10K turns me into a white Big Mama.

Run! Save yourself!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I parked my car, and hobbled through my parkade, I dreaded what was to come next. Three. Flights. Of. Stairs.

They want me to climb what?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It may be a while until my next 10K, and I may bemoan the fact my hip hurts, and my blisters on my feet make walking difficult, but I’ll carry the pain with pride.  I challenged myself, and I won.  And thanks to you, I raised $410 to support Pacekids.

But I’ll need a sherpa to carry me up & down the stairs.

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5 Comments

  1. Nice job with the 10k!!! That’s quite the feat!!!

  2. Absolutely awesome! This is exactly what I needed Monday morning to inspire me to help others. You rock Kim.

  3. Congrats Kim on your 10 KM, sorry to hear about your “owies” ie: Blisters. I would love to offer you any advice on your future training adventures as I work for the company that is written on your bib. Ask Craig, he knows about my “nagging” about training properly.

    • Thanks Deb! I have the hardest time finding socks that fit. I think the problem that led to the blisters was a combination of too-big socks and my feet were wet and prune-y. I’d love to hear tips though!

  4. Feel free to pop into the Running Room at Crossiron Mills for any advice, I am the manager at that location.


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