Friday I did some lifting and went to a wedding and celebrated right. I was sitting by the cookie table and the bar, both locations were visited more than once. It was obnoxious really knowing I was going to race in the morning. Hubbs asked if I was going for a P. W. a personal worst. I really didn't think it was a great idea to run. This around the table as I get a text from the Kenyan, who is not going to make it at this point. Awful tempting to not go. Leaving the party and getting lost for an extra half an hour of driving made sleeping in instead sound good.
Some how I showed up on time. Tradition converts me to a sucker.
I wasn't registered at all. I managed a shirt in my size, with plenty of time to spare. I was feeling really really gross. Full of wine farts, and wedding cookies, gives a new meaning to 'you are full of it'. Oh I was too. I kept telling myself how stupid I was. I turn on my mp3 player to see my subscription was out on my songs...great. Go to get in the line for the bathroom there is a line and I have to deal with my space issues...snap decision- I use the mens. It was a single room with a lock, whatever, near emergency conditions call for lack of regard for others unfortunately. I mention the garbage I ate, so I am sure you can understand the fantastic smell it made. If you eat clean you really don't reek quite so much or get gassy. You eat garbage you smell like you are rotting on the inside, especially if you aren't used to it. I attempt to fan the grumpy cloud away so when I open the door it's not so intense, I fail, miserably. I give myself the shrug and smile and leave the bathroom. 2 men outside the door waiting....I smile and say, um sorry, and make a beeline for the race lineup bus. I sit here and am still a little giggly. Sorry dude.
I did not warm up. I committed to a bad race. I was going to be injury free and have clean shorts, this wasn't the olympics and I had an achy knee and a bowel like a boa-constrictor, oh well. It was a nice day and I was there, as the gun went off I relaxed into a run down the hill. Somehow I am faster than I thought, I kept talking my self into what was going to happen, I was going to show my self how to ruin a race. My stomach hurt so bad, I had horrible farts. Not just smelly, no I don't smell myself when I run gassy, but horrible by terroristic farting, just mortified I may have to turn right at the bottom of the hill and run home because I pooped. I managed to make it, and probably defend my space nobody passed me, I probably gassed them to death or at least stunned them. I don't know why I accept a glass of wine when it's given to me, it never changes, I get whine farts. Whiskey or Beer wine is prohibited. My knee wasn't bothering me at all but I was "taking it easy". I was enjoying myself and I guess I just kept plugging. At some point I started to feel okay and it became fun. I finished 28:55. Historically 3 seconds slower than last year's derby. Not too shabby for a self promised bad race. I got my first age group first place. A real first place medal. My fourth Derby. WHAT. Yes really. I was by myself so I did my inward celebratory dance.
onward
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