20k Terror
If you'd asked me a year ago if I wanted to enter a 20k race, I would have laughed in your goddamn face.
And I would have kept laughing for quite some time.
And then I'd have slapped you silly for having the nerve to ask me such foolishness.
Hell, I was the girl taking a taxi from the Promenade to get to the Hyatt. Seriously.
Yet, here I am in 2018 about to enter a 20k.
Yup. I am one week away from attempting my first 20k race.
I'm entering the annual Butler Classic 20k, which is held each year by the Oilfield Workers' Trade Union (OWTU) to commemorate Labour Day.
The race starts in San Fernando and ends in Fyzabad.
For those not familiar with the southlands, the distance is equivalent to walking from Arima to Barataria...but hillier.
Now it's not the first time I've done such a lengthy distance...I've walked 21 km before. And the longest I've ever walked was 26 km, when I walked from Arima to Port of Spain.
But those were just me, walking for the hell of it, not in an actual race.
So this race terrifies me.
Now I'm not trying to win it, Gods no!
And I know I can complete it so I'm not afraid of burnout.
My fear is lagging far behind.
Coming in last place scares me. I don't know why. I mean, somebody has to come last, right?
I just don't want it to be me.
Yeah yeah...I know...finishing it is the goal. I should feel proud just to achieve that.
But y'all don't know what it feels like to come dead last at something.
I know because it happened two years ago when I did a 15k.
I was so last, the ambulance driver got tired of waiting and told me to "call it a day".
I was so last, the police escort offered me a drop to the finish line.
I was so last, people finished the race and passed me in their maxis on their way back home.
I was so last, they turned off the timer before I made it to the end so I didn't even get to register as having completed the race.
I was so last, mostly everybody had left by the time I got to the finish.
I was so last, I felt the stares and heard the whispers of 'wait, she now finishing?'
I was so last, I cried for hours when I got home.
It was not a good day.
Looking back at it now, I do feel a level of achievement at having completed it at all. But I still remember that humiliation and I'm not eager to feel it again.
So I'm nervous as hell going into Butler. But I'm doing it to prepare me for UWI half marathon in October which is 21 km.
I've entered the walkers version, which starts 30 minutes before the runners version. So with a thirty minute head start I'm hoping not to be the last one to cross the finish line although I'm sure the runners will catch up in no time.
Those fuckers.
Anyway, I will give it my best shot and hope to all hell that if I do come last, I'll at least make it before they shut off the goddamn timer.
I'd like to think I'm fitter now.
And I would have kept laughing for quite some time.
And then I'd have slapped you silly for having the nerve to ask me such foolishness.
Hell, I was the girl taking a taxi from the Promenade to get to the Hyatt. Seriously.
Yet, here I am in 2018 about to enter a 20k.
Yup. I am one week away from attempting my first 20k race.
I'm entering the annual Butler Classic 20k, which is held each year by the Oilfield Workers' Trade Union (OWTU) to commemorate Labour Day.
The race starts in San Fernando and ends in Fyzabad.
For those not familiar with the southlands, the distance is equivalent to walking from Arima to Barataria...but hillier.
Now it's not the first time I've done such a lengthy distance...I've walked 21 km before. And the longest I've ever walked was 26 km, when I walked from Arima to Port of Spain.
But those were just me, walking for the hell of it, not in an actual race.
So this race terrifies me.
Now I'm not trying to win it, Gods no!
And I know I can complete it so I'm not afraid of burnout.
My fear is lagging far behind.
Coming in last place scares me. I don't know why. I mean, somebody has to come last, right?
I just don't want it to be me.
Yeah yeah...I know...finishing it is the goal. I should feel proud just to achieve that.
But y'all don't know what it feels like to come dead last at something.
I know because it happened two years ago when I did a 15k.
I was so last, the ambulance driver got tired of waiting and told me to "call it a day".
I was so last, the police escort offered me a drop to the finish line.
I was so last, people finished the race and passed me in their maxis on their way back home.
I was so last, they turned off the timer before I made it to the end so I didn't even get to register as having completed the race.
I was so last, mostly everybody had left by the time I got to the finish.
I was so last, I felt the stares and heard the whispers of 'wait, she now finishing?'
I was so last, I cried for hours when I got home.
It was not a good day.
Looking back at it now, I do feel a level of achievement at having completed it at all. But I still remember that humiliation and I'm not eager to feel it again.
So I'm nervous as hell going into Butler. But I'm doing it to prepare me for UWI half marathon in October which is 21 km.
I've entered the walkers version, which starts 30 minutes before the runners version. So with a thirty minute head start I'm hoping not to be the last one to cross the finish line although I'm sure the runners will catch up in no time.
Those fuckers.
Anyway, I will give it my best shot and hope to all hell that if I do come last, I'll at least make it before they shut off the goddamn timer.
I'd like to think I'm fitter now.
 |
| Me now. |
 |
| Me at my first 15k in 2016. |
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