As most of you know, my latest endeavor is working at Playmakers, a store that specializes in running shoes, gear, and a whole lot of other really cool stuff. I absolutely love it there; it gives me a chance to share my passion for fitness, good health and get a freakin' awesome discount on all my stuff. You could definitely say I work there to feed my running habit for sure.
So we get all types of people in the store, from stick-thin elite runners, high school track kids, weekend warriors, and the brave souls who have never run a mile in their lives and are looking to start. Yesterday I helped an older gentleman (I won't give an age guess as not to offend any of my audience but let's just say for sure in the "grand master" category. Not that that makes him old mind you...just "older" than me...). To look at this guy you wouldn't think "runner". He was pretty short and stout with a little belly that shouted "I LOVE BUSCH LIGHT!". He was a bit disheveled with crazy dirty hair, a few rips in his pants, and a very worn Carhart jacket. He looked (and sort of smelled) as if he had just spit out a huge wad of chew moments before stepping foot into the store. I figured he was looking to replace the ratty old school Reeboks he was sporting.
I can't stand it any longer. I ask him "So sir, what kind of 5K time are you looking to achieve this Spring?" He stops tying his shoe for a minute and ponders, "Well, I just keep getting stuck at the 23 minute mark. Would love to break into the 22s". (in case you're wondering, that's around a 7 minute, 30 second per mile pace)
Um yeah buddy. Me too.