Okay, so that last sentence is a complete lie.
The truth is that I might be the worst trainee of all time and have acquired a hatred for all physical activity since I decided to register for this race. Today was the exception.
The infamous "Race Day" is probably the only reason I signed up for this thing to begin with (and, of course, to cross half marathon off my life list). I love the adrenaline pumping through my veins, the crowd, the cheers, and all the people holding up signs with(out) my name on them! I especially love the runners that are three times my age and dart past like nimble gazelles as I choke on the dust.
Again, that last one is a lie. But unfortunately my hatred for elderly athletes showing me up in public doesn't seem to stop it from happening.
Anyway.
What they didn't mention when I registered for this race was that apparently the eternally hot and humid Louisiana was going be be GASP! Like, 30 degrees on race day. Lovely. Luckily I brought my Underarmor, but it was definitely not the ski jacket that I needed. After borrowing some fuzzy gloves from a friend, it was literally off to the races for me.
I was not able to master the art of simultaneous running and blogging, but in case you are curious my inner dialogue went a little something like this:
Mile one. There is no way this is going to happen. What the BLEEP was I thinking. It's 30 BLEEPING degrees out here and I am wearing gloves with fuzzy balls on them. What I really need is some BLEEPING wool socks. I cannot feel my feet. How am I supposed to run a BLEEPING half marathon with no feeling in my feet? Mother BLEEPING...
Mile two. Seriously. I have only run one mile? That means I have more than 12 to go. Where are all the bands? Aren't there supposed to be bands? Did they sleep in or what? No bands and no feeling in my feet. This was a stupid idea. Where are all the taxis? There should be taxis.
Mile three. Oh, there's a band. Why aren't they playing? What is the point of showing up if you are going to just stand there and chat amongst yourselves? If you are going to do that, please at least do it into the microphone so we can all be entertained, since judging by your laughter whatever you are gabbing about is just SO BLEEPING funny.
Mile four. Why would someone bring a sign that says "Pain is temporary, pride is forever?" She is obviously trying to torture my mind. Thanks a lot lady, now since I am refusing to walk my legs are probably going to fall off. Say hello to your conscience for me you evil, evil woman.
Mile five. What is with this dude and why can't I just pass him? His towering frame is blocking my view but his neon yellow leg warmers are... well, quite entertaining. Oh well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. He is actually keeping a good pace. Hmm. BLEEP it, follow those leg warmers!
Mile six. I wish I was six feet tall. Captain Legwarmers parts the runner seas with his ginormous presence and I simply follow behind him. This really wasn't a bad idea. I am a genius.
Mile seven. New text. Competitor Wireless. "Rosalyn has crossed the 6.2 mile (10K) at 08:26:25 with a time of 01:03:41." Think. Quick! Fast math. That's like a 10 minute mile. On track. Just keep following those yellow legs.
Mile eight. Wow. There sure are a lot of people with handmade signs. Maybe someone will have a Rosalyn sign and I can run up and snap a picture with them. I wonder if Nick made a sign for me. Yeah, I am thinking no. I need a sign. I should have made a sign myself and had him hold it. Wait, where is Nick? He hasn't texted or called. He better not have overslept. Oh. BLEEP. What if he overslept? What if I have to celebrate on my own? Why did I do this race again? Waaaahhhh.
Mile nine. I wonder if this guy realizes that I have been following closely behind him for like, five miles. I think once we finish this race, together, I will thank him for being my pacesetter. Then I will introduce him to Nick and we will all hang out and be friends. Anyone who rocks '80s leg warmers in 2011 is a friend of mine. Only a few more miles to go...
Mile ten. My iTunes play list that I created last night when I should have been sleeping is definitely my all-time best work. I can now feel my feet, but I don't really care. They hurt. But what makes the pain go away? A little MJ, that's what. These people all have ear buds in, right? They totally won't mind if I sing aloud...
Mile eleven. New text again. Better be Nick. Nope, Competitor Wireless. "Rosalyn Wik has crossed the 10 mile at 09:06:22 with a time of 01:43:38." Still on pace. Wait where did Captain Legwarmers go? I've lost visual. How does a guy like that just disappear? How will we ever be friends now?!
Mile twelve. Breathe, sing, breathe, run, run, run. Those leg warmers were stupid anyway. Who needs that guy. I can totally finish these last two (point one) miles by myself. I started solo, I can finish solo. But seriously. How much longer is this thing going to last. I am sick of carrying these gloves.
Mile thirteen (plus point one). Last mile. No Nick. No handmade sign. Except... wait.. that guy looks like... it couldn't be... Nick! Why is he running beside me? In a wrist cast? And wearing jeans? And a button-down shirt. And loafers? He is so going to regret this later. But who cares! Nick is finishing with me! And I am pretty sure people think he ran 13.1 miles in jeans and flats from Aldo. Always a show stopper.
"Rosalyn Wik has crossed the Finish Line at 09:39:39 with a time of 02:16:55." She is now headed to a local Italian restaurant where she will down a calzone and a large mushroom spinach pizza all by herself. Ah, the taste of accomplishment.
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