Guess what? I got a fever. And the only prescription... is more 5k.

OK, so the most I've "run" in the past two years is about a half mile on a treadmill in an air-conditioned gym before starting my workout with my trainer on any given morning.

Just enough to get the heart pumping, and usually I don't even do a half mile.

Suffice it to say when I showed up for my first 5k on Saturday, there was no preparation, no warm up, nothing. I hadn't even really planned on running. I only walked down from my house to the starting point in Grant Park because I was a sponsor of the event and I thought, y'know, might be nice to show up and say hello to everyone.

As soon as I got there, I bumped into some friends who were running, so I thought, what the heck, I'll grab a bib and pin it to myself and walk around the park with them.

Well, as soon as all 445 runners (now including myself) lined up on Cherokee Avenue, I lost my friends in the crowd and since I was near the front of the line (apparently that's where all the serious runners gather in these things), off I go with the no-nonsense folk in the clothes I'd slept in the night before and some crappy hand-me-down gym shoes I've worn down to the quick.

As soon as we started, I thought, OK this is weird, but somewhat fun, so I just kept going. I figured I'd get to the stop sign at Cherokee and Sydney and just step out of line and maybe stand there to wave on and clap for all the others behind me. But then I went past the stop sign and sort of forgot about it. Then we all just kept going and everyone around me just kept running.

And running.

And running. And so did I.

So like 31 minutes and 35.9 unbelievable seconds later, I crossed the finish line after not breaking stride one single time the entire run.

I seriously thought I was going to pass out as soon as I stopped running... I guzzled three bottles of water and ate two bananas. I was pouring sweat, could barely speak, and turned around and walked home I was so out of sorts.

Today, I finally remembered I did this on Saturday, so I looked up the results form the race on the website. Can you believe my fat, 205 pound 5-foot-7 ass placed 165 out of 445 overall, and 17th IN MY AGE GROUP?

Me either.

What's more, I just now for the first time looked up what 5k means. It means 5 kilometers, which in 'Merica-speak is something like 3.1 miles.

That's just crazy.

And I want to do it again.