He kicked my butt!

I thought I was a fast walker. My friend, the one with the diabetes, royally kicked my fat butt during our walk today. He jogged while I race walked. Now everyone is telling me, "you WALKED with Alejandro! Didn't you know he never walks, but he runs?" Um, no, I didn't know that, he never told me. I said we were walking, not running. So I race walked.

Have you ever race walked three miles in 30 minutes? It's where you're walking so fast that you're almost jogging, but you have to keep one foot on the ground at all times. I read the race walking rules and that's one of them. Arms bent at the elbows.

I know you've seen little old ladies doing this and you've laughed at them because they looked so goofy. I looked goofy, but my heart rate was up around 140 and the sweat was pouring off of me. My friend was barely breathing hard.

This wasn't what I expected. I was suppose to kick his butt, not the other way around. Tomorrow he wants to go on the hill that goes down to the water. I'm already worried about it. Downhill no problem, but uphill it's torture and that's walking at my regular pace. Walking like a bat out of hell is probably going to kill me.

This is going to challenge me. Which reminds me, I'm going to do Tony's (anti-jared) Missouri 60 Challenge. I took a picture this morning but it looked too horrible to post. It was after my workout, and I sweat a lot. So maybe tonight or tomorrow I'll get a picture up. Sixty days. Maybe I can kick my own butt during that time.