I must be crazy

At one point in my life, I liked to run. I ran a lot. I was in fantastic shape.

All of that was a LONG time ago.

Up until a few months ago, exercise and I were in an on-again/off-again kind of relationship. I'd try it for a few weeks before wimping out and slacking off. Since the police academy 10 years ago, I had run a distance over a mile exactly one time - a 5K that nearly killed me 4 years ago.

A few of months ago, some 'friends' at work came to me and informed me that I was running in a relay race with them. The conversation went something like this:

Brandon: "You are running Red Rock with us."
Me: [sarcastic snort] "Yeah, right. What's 'Red Rock'?"
Kyle: "Oh, it's easy. It's a relay race with 12 team members."
Me: "How far?"
Kyle: "Only 182 miles. You'll be running 3 legs, at about 5K a piece."
Me: [Comment censored - I'm not supposed to say those kinds of words, especially where I work]
Me: "You realize that I am a fat guy, right?"
Brandon: "Things can change. We're going to introduce you to something called CrossFit."

Three months and -20 pounds later, I'm getting ready to run tomorrow. Not that I'll be running fast or anything. One of the things our team has to do is provide a 10k average time so that the race organizers know when to start us. Our list of times looks something like this:

Name:          10K time:
Kyle          45
Ryan          44
Brandon          50
Ted          1:20
[insert 8 other sub 50 times...]

I get to start us off tomorrow. I have legs of 3.0, 3.7 and 3.1 miles. I'll be up mostly the entire 25-26 hours of the race.

Anybody got a defibrillator I can borrow?