Tabatha Deans

STRIDES FOR EPILEPSY
I rode up to City Park at 6:30 this morning, to help set up for the Strides for Epilepsy 5k community walk/run. Everyone from my office was there, and we spent the first two hours erecting tents, distributing T-shirts and registering runners, before we joined the other 2,000 people or so at the starting line. I’ve never actually run a 5k, and was a bit overwhelmed to stand in line with a crowd of people as far as the eye could see. I’d planned to walk and maybe jog a little with the others on my team, but after indulging in a bagel and assorted other goodies during setup, I really needed to run off some blood sugar. So I put in my tunes and began a slow jog.
Once I began jogging, it seemed ridiculous to stop and walk, it was, after all, only 3.5 miles. I started noticing signs pinned on the backs of some of the walkers. Signs declaring their reasons for walking, such as “for my daughter,” “My mother,” My brother,” “My father.” There were young kids running past all of us, an older gentleman who ran on his tippy-toes, and seemed to be in a constant state of falling. There was the mystery runner, who I couldn’t tell if it was a male with long, wavy hair,or a female with an awkward gait. It seemed to sense whenever I was approaching, because every time I was nearly alongside, it took off running ahead of me.
I fell in stride behind a very interesting woman. She weighted about 150 pounds, with at least 50 of that being centered, in the shape of a big, solid heart, around her hips and thighs. Her torso was tiny, as were her legs from the knees down, but everything in between was a fascinating mass of cellulite, bound by spandex, that bounced in a mesmerizing rhythm as the woman ran with tiny baby steps. The effect was disturbingly adorable, and I couldn’t help but follow her for about half a mile.
I felt all alone in the mass of people. Not lonely, but alone, and strong. As the songs shuffled through my iPod it was like my life for the past ten years flashing through my ears, with Billy Joel reminding me of life in Salt Lake, A-ha bringing back fond memories of my time in Vernal, and as the sign declaring mile 3 came into my view, “Going the Distance” began blaring in my ears, and I was transported back to Mexico, running down the dirt road at top speed, turning to see the mafia Mercedes following me…

June 11, 2012 - Posted by Tabatha Stewart | Uncategorized