Have you every gone on a really big trip? Not to your grandma's house, but a REALLY BIG trip, you know, like the ones where you pack and repack your bags, consult travel guru, Rick Steves, and maybe even email him
Preparing for a race is the same way. Of course, I'd trained. I ran the course beforehand. I even fussed over what I was going to wear. I didn't want my big can flapping in the wind and have my shirt ride up around my chin come the finish line. I got all nervous with excitement. I also worried that I'd find that I disliked running in a group and run home instead.
Curiously, as the race began I felt an overwhelming joy at being a part of something greater than myself, and a little bit competitive every time someone really fast passed us. As they flew by, I silently slapped them in my mind, then wished them well. It's not that I wasn't pleased for them, I just got tired of watching their tanned and toned legs running by as if the zombies were actually behind them, because everyone knows they would eat me first. Of course, I ran as fast as a cow crossing a country lane, but I had a blast. And most importantly, I didn't die--which was actually kind of a surprise.
Imagine my utter amazement when my running mates and I got to the end and said to one another, "When are we doing a 10k?"
|Rocky Babe Boa, Sassy Britches and the Square Toothed Girl.|
I think it's interesting that both of my friends look totally hot after running 3.16 miles,
because I actually felt like I was melting.
|Here's me, melting. Just so you know, this was staged. |
Have I mentioned that I have a flare for drama??
|All in fighting shape, or at least good enough shape to run away from|
slow zombies, not fast ones. Wait, are there such things as fast zombies??
What did you do this weekend?