As a part of the regular gauntlet that is Irish Season, a new bringer of pain has been introduced by myself and friends to help justify our binging whilst nursing aging bodies that just don’t snap back after that two day bender like they used to: a 5K walk/run.
Are we insane? Probably so. Will there be blood? Again, probably so. I’m not really sure how we actually settled on doing this (the idea was definitely dreamed up on a drunken evening), but we did. So, bright and early on Saturday morning, I’ll be amongst the throngs dashing myself down Greenville Ave..
For those of you unfamiliar with the deep “Irish” (and by “Irish” I mean excuse to be drunk in public) tradition around St. Paddy’s Day, here’s what the general process is.
1. Take one part St. Patrick’s Day, and one part Mardi Gras.
2. Allow the locals to drink in the streets.
3. Mix in a bunch of drunken idiots in green and put them on either side of a major thoroughfare.
4. Put a puny parade on that major thoroughfare.
The end result is a massive party that lasts all day and ties up everything on this street well into the wee hours of the morning. The trash alone staggers me every year.
Personally, I tend to avoid the entire mess. I used to go down there and get good and drunk before 10AM, but that tends to put a damper on the rest of the day.
Now, before the parade and festivities kick off, me and a mess of friends will be attempting to make our way around a 5K course in what will become the heart of this giant cluster-fuck.
I know for a fact that I can tromp five measely kilometers with relative ease. What I’m unsure of is whether or not I can actually do it running. That, however, may not stop me from giving it a go. What’s the worst thing that could happen? (Don’t answer that)
My one goal is to make it to the finish line and then be able to get out of be of my own volition on Sunday morning. I figure if my legs don’t fall off, I’ve got one in the win column.