So what happens when you stop your new-found running—and any semblance of exercise beyond a bit of high-altitude hiking—for three weeks? Do you...
A. Rip open a bag of Cheetos and park yourself on the couch to await the next season of "The Biggest Loser," consoling yourself that at least you're not as big as "those people."
B. Rip open a bag of Cheetos and park yourself on the couch to watch "Pumping Iron," congratulating yourself that you didn't risk getting as big as "those people"
C. Sigh dramatically, rewind your completed Couch to 5K program to Week Four and start over, forced to run outside in the heat because you passive aggressively overslept and now don't have time to go to the air-conditioned gym.
If you answered A, you know me quite well. But, alas, this is not the correct answer outside of my fantasy world, where chewing, lounging and believing in unicorns is all the exercise a body needs. If you answered B, you're close, but it was a gin and tonic and I was too busy goggling in amazement to think about my own pathetic weakness. I have nothing but love for "Pumping Iron."
The correct answer is C. Siiiiiiiiiiiigh.
You also commit and sign up for the first 5K that you will run, not walk. Nor stroll, nor amble, nor meander. Possibly sashay. But certainly run.
So I will see you or think of you at the Susan Komen 5K Race for the Cure in downtown St. Petersburg on October 2, when I'm not thinking that the people who measured five kilometers for that race were clearly mathematically inept morons who made the course much longer than it should be. There's information here: My Race Page