Today I ran a 5K test. No, not a 5K speed test, in which the coaches ride in horse-drawn chariots and whip you along the course to see how fast you can go.

A 5K Let's See If Can I Actually Run This Without a Limb Falling Off or a Lung Exploding Test.

It's been a couple of weeks or more since running at all. After my back started acting up, with the pain shooting down my leg -- and it lasted for more than a week -- I dragged my sorry ass to the back doctor.

The good news is that it doesn't appear to be a ruptured disc. That was my nightmare scenario. I'd had that before and it required surgery to fix.

The bad news? I'm apparently a biomechanical horror show. Lopsided. IT bands tighter than a Real Housewife's face. Slight Achilles tendonitis. And, the most likely suspect, an extremely angry sacroiliac joint. It's amazing they didn't tell me my head wasn't screwed on straight.

At any rate, it's been a couple of weeks of physical therapy. And by physical therapy, I mean a tiny man doing deep tissue massage and joint manipulation. And by deep tissue massage and joint manipulation, I mean having thumbs and elbows jammed deep into my left buttock inflicting so much pain that I almost cry.

But apparently it works. Pain started going away quickly. I still have some in a localized area, but 80% improvement. So I decided to go for a run -- especially since I have to somehow complete a half marathon next month.

It was slow. And pain free -- well, except for the breathing. But the true test will come later today and tomorrow.

I'd say give until it hurts -- but it already does!

See my fundraising goal over there? See how much money I've raised? Isn't it all really impressive.

But here is the thing: I didn't raise all that money!

See, I'm the captain of a corporate team. And because we wanted to hold money donated to the team (as opposed to individual team members) in one place, to be doled out as needed closer to deadline, all the "team" money has ended up in my coffers. This is all fine and well -- and the money all goes to the same place.

But I feel like I'm not pulling my weight around this joint. So, let's see if we can keep the pile growing. A few more individual donations to get me to $5,500 would do the trick!

See that woman there? You know how I know she didn't run up that hill? Because she's smiling. And singing. Unless the good nuns were doing CrossFit before CrossFit was invented -- combined with mixed martial arts and actual hill repeats -- there's no way she hauled it up the hill -- in all that clothes, at that altitude -- and is spinning around while belting out a tune.

Tonight is hill training. After a week and a half off, it's practically the worst way to get back into running. On the other hand, it's fitting punishment for taking a week and a half off.

Why run hills, you might ask. Because it is necessary. Very necessary. Hill running should be a part of any running-training program, even if your race course is flat as a pancake. It builds muscles and endurance and all sorts of foolishness that will give you an edge -- and prepare you for the fact that your course map or race organizer or friends who ran that race before you all LIED ABOUT THAT KILLER HILL AT MILE FIVE! (In all actuality, it might not be a killer hill, but if you don't do any hill training, guess what: every little incline is going to feel like a killer hill.)

You run the hill the first time, you think, "Hey, that wasn't awful. Seven more." You jog back down, then run it a second time, then think: "Okay. Maybe eight was optimistic. Maybe we'll go six. Maybe only four." Jog back down. Run it a third time. Your stomach starts to feel a little weird. Running hills hits your core in a different way. Are those cramps? Are you going to start crop-dusting those behind you? Are you going to shart? You jog back down. Run up again. Now your bowels aren't the issue. It's your burning lungs and a sudden urge to puke. Jog back down, start to shuffle up again -- and now a sadistic TNT Coach decides you have more fuel in the tank and then decides to pace you. And so it goes. Until you sound like a cat trying to hork up a particularly large hairball. "Weeeeeezzeeee--HORRRKKK--weeeeeeezzzeeee--HORRKKKKKK!"

Anyway. I'm running hills tonight. Raising money. To fight cancer. I'm running until it hurts. Give until it doesn't!

After a few weeks of hell, the weather in New York has been perfect for running. And I'll tell you why that is. It's because I decided to take a week and a half off.

It's called the Kennyolus Effect. The weather responds directly to my plans and schedules and does the exact opposite of what I need it to do.

In fact, I'm going to type: "I might go for a run this very evening." Let's see what happens. Thunderstorms? Hail? Or a weird heat spike?

Is your dog naked? Running around the house with all its naughty bits on display like some heathen? Well, we can change that.

Would you like your dog to look smart in a tuxedo, sexy in a swanky dress or spirited in your favorite team's colors? Then you're in luck.

As part of my fundraising efforts, I'm raffling off two (2) customized dog outfits from Syludu. You can get a sampling of the goods here. Of course, if you're the lucky winner, you can simply pick one of those dresses. But you can also pick your own color combinations or themes -- like a lime-green tuxedo, perhaps a TNT-purple dress or even a jersey or dress with your favorite football team (yes, even if you are the misguided sort who roots for the Alabama Crimson Tide of the Dallas Cowboys).

And your dog doesn't even have to be a lap dog. They can accomodate big dogs. Hell, your dog doesn't even have to be a dog. That's right. It can be a cat, as well.

HOW TO ENTER

Each "chance" will cost $5. Donate $10? That's two chances. Donate $25? That's five. (Math is amazing.) Simply hit the donation button on this here page and in the message box, type DASHING DOGGY.

If you made a previous donation, that entitles you to one gratis raffle ticket. If you want in, just comment on this post by typing DASHING DOGGY.