March 29, 2010
This past weekend, my friend Kim and I decided to run a half. No, not a half-mile, a half-marathon.
For all you non-runners out there, that equals 13.1 miles--not a bowdownandworshipme distance, but nothing to sneeze at either. It's kind of like being the student council treasurer instead of the student council president....or the school mascot instead of the school cheerleader....or a chiropractor instead of a medical doctor.
Kidding. Kidding! Jared, sweet husband, I swear I was only kidding. I'd rather have an endless supply of back cracks than an endless supply of prescription narcotics any day of the week. (And just like that I've moved from innocent joking to blatant lying...funny how that happens.)
Anyhoo, Kim is married to our Branch President--the equivalent of a pastor for all my Protestant and Catholic friends out there--and for some reason, the fact that the Branch President's wife skipped church to run a race made the entire experience that much better.
Kim and I met in a grocery store parking lot at 6am, we loaded into my station wagon (because we're hot), and headed south. I spent the greater part of the two-hour drive hydrating, and after coming perilously close to whizzing in m'britches two times, we arrived at the starting area.
And that was the moment when we put two and two together--it was March, in New England, thirty degrees outside, winds of twenty-something miles per hour, and we were paying forty bucks a pop to run thirteen miles right next to the open ocean.
What. The. Hell.
I was like, "Hey Kim? Never repeat this, but I think I'd rather be at church."
She was speechless.
Here we are, hiding from the wind, waiting for the race to start:
You know what I love about that picture? I love that fact that Kim's iPod is bigger than my vest. Clearly I purchased that vest in 2003--two years before I came to realize the joy (and abdominal disfiguration) that comes along with motherhood.
Now, I will recap the race in four brief statements:
1) Five feet into the race I tripped over a florescent orange traffic cone.
2) Four miles into the race I had no idea how I was doing since there were no mile markers along the course. Ten miles into the race I still had no idea how I was doing because, right-o, still no mile markers.
And the volunteers (bless their generous, supportive hearts) weren't much of a help. I'd be like, "Where are we?" And they were all, "Hampton Beach!!!! Isn't it beautiful?!?! Yay!!!! Run!!!!!"
Enthusiastic? Absolutely. Helpful? In their own way, I suppose they were.
3) I would describe this race as very windy, super windy, oh-so-windy, and unbefreakinglievably windy. A phrase like "really stinking windy" might also be suitable.
4) I went into the race with the goal of running 1:50 or under. I ran 1:49.59. If that isn't trophy worthy, then what the heck is?
Here I am after the race: