You may remember that a while back I was super into running. Very into running. I loved that shiz. I mean, I was never really good, and I always mix running with walking. But I ran a few times a week and did many a race. And then LIFE happened. Don’t you just wanted to yell at Life, “Quit happening, ok? Either stay or go, but you can’t just keep popping up into my life all willy nilly and expect me to stay composed or at the very least not eat all of the Whole Foods vegan chocolate chip cookies.” The movie promotion took up time, and then I’m driving too Atlanta a few times a week, and then I’m tired, and I’m mainlining popcorn, and I’m eating vegan chocolate and tacos, and I’ve gained 10 pounds and my pants are tight and I want to do anything other than run. I miss it, though, but I didn’t realize how much until I ran on Sunday.
Here’s what happened: I signed myself up for a few Fall races a while back and then proceeded to promptly forget about them. Happens to us all, right? Then I started getting the emails about how to pick up your race number, and where to park, and then I remembered. Holy shitballs, Batman…I’m running a race on Sunday! Zoink!
On Friday I took my happy (read: unhappy) arse to Brookhaven to pick up my race swag (my 16-year-old niece taught me the importance of the word swag, but in this case, I actually picked up my race swag) which included my race number and shirt. Now it’s for real.
Let me clear: I did absolutely nothing to prepare for this race. I have not jogged in a while (I actually can’t remember the last time) and figured that I could just walk parts if I needed to. On Saturday I slept in to the late hour of 8:00 am (that’s a victory in my book) and headed to town for some Fall family fun with Beevy and her kids. By 8:00 pm, I was exhausted, not so much from doing anything taxing, but more so from having a really really horrible week and my body requesting that I sleep off any leftover horrible feelings. So I was asleep by 10:45 on a Saturday night (don’t hate) and awake by 5:30 am for the big race.
Of course, living in Gwinnett has its disadvantages at times, and it seems that a HUGE one is that 100% of the races I’ve done or want to do are in Atlanta at ungodly early times. But I wasn’t deterred…I left the house at 6:00 am and got stuck in the worst stand still traffic at around 6:40 at Atlantic Station. We are talking dead stopped. We are also talking about people not letting me into their lane, when, during dead stopped traffic, I KNOW YOU SEE ME AND NOW IT’S AWKWARD BECAUSE I CAN WATCH AS YOU DRIVE BY ME. Sigh. The bad news: the race started at 7:30, and I pulled into the parking deck at 7:30. The good news: they stalled the race from starting for a good 20-30 minutes because of the traffic fiasco.
For me, I LOVE races. I would rather do 4 races a week than jog 4 times by myself. There’s something about the camaraderie, the complete strangers cheering you on, the loud music playing to pump you up, the volunteers that took time out of their days to help out, and the finish line that really get me going. In truth, people on the sidelines cheering you on make me go that extra mile (that’s a figure of speech, I still only go the required distance of the race) and always always always make me smile. Yesterday, the roller girls were out in full force, playing loud music, holding signs (one of my favorites is “Worst Parade Ever”), clapping and cheering. I instantly smiled and picked up the pace. Then there’s the finish line. Ahhhh the beloved finish line. Yesterday, there were people who were waiting on loved ones, people who ran the race, and supporters all lined up on either side of you as you crossed the finish line. They were clapping, cheering, yelling things like “Great job!” and “You did it!” and I wanted to fly into a cloud of rainbows because I was so happy. This is why I love a race…people you have never met join forces to be happy for other people. It’s a wonderful thing.
So, how did I do? Let’s just say that I could have done better, and I could have done worse. I realized that I wanted to walk more than run (no surprise there) and that I actually was sort of sad about it. I understand now that I miss running on the reg, and that my schedule and life have only gotten crazy because I’ve allowed it. Time to put on my big girl panties and kick the shit out of this lazy ass that I’ve gotten so used to. I feel better when I run, I look better, and my pants are not longer tight. That’s a win win, right?
To treat myself for doing a quasi good job on the race, I headed to Lee’s Bakery and gorged on vegan Pho and vegan Banh Mi. I regret nothing. Now, it’s time to put the foot to the cement and slap this life in the face, because #yolo, bitches.