Hey…Do The Double!

Okay...Double Did.

May all your doubles come with McD fries

(don't let me sell you a dream, it was NOT that simple) 

I love a gimmick. Give me a race with a gimmick and I’ll probably insist on paying your registration fee, just so you can experience it with me. Don’t believe me? Ask Erin about the Color Run that we have yet to do in our Drunk1 & Drunk2 t-shirts in San Francisco #Summer2014. So what’s today’s gimmick? 2 Races in 1 Day #SOLD. The Pleasanton Double Road Race had me up at an unholy hour doing ungodly things in the Starbucks a couple miles away from START/FINISH Line. Not really ungodly, but the morning struggle was certainly realized in Starbucks.

Anyway. You have to run a 10K. Then Halftime. Run a 5K. And then, get your medal. Um, I got plenty time for that #signslifeaway! How awesome is that for the last race of the year, right? About that… The last race of 2013 was probably the worst. No really, this was pretty damn bad. Don’t believe me? Just watch #readanduseyourimagination

Pre-Race: So, the City of Pleasanton woke up this morning and decided that they wanted to be the laziest city in California and only pick 36 of ALL THE GOTTDAMN degrees there are in the world! What the hell man?!?!? I swear it was literally the temperature, right before the temperature scientists need for cryostasis. Why are you here right now? There is nothing here for you. Get in your car and go home. Nobody will care. Seriously.

Start: It’s just a 10K. Getcholife. Just run. Quit being a baby all the time. It’s the last race of the year! #Pre14in2014 …you got this. Make Kim proud.

Mile 1: I hate vodka. I really do. And Chick-Fil-A. Gottdamn waffle fries. #bbqsauce

Mile 2: This is quite literally the dumbest idea you’ve ever idea’d. And, your list of dumb ideas includes trying to climb the Le Tower Eiffel. *I’ll write that post when I get the feeling back on the left side of my body* #TheThrill&FeelingIsGone

Mile 3: Wait. A 10K plus a 5K is a 15K. That’s like 6.2 miles + 3.1 miles. *does advanced calculus whist running* WTF! I signed up to run 9.3 miles? DAMMIT! That’s almost like a HALF marathon?! You didn’t train for this! Dummy.

Mile 4: Quit being a punk and make this race your B***H!

Mile 5: Um, I’ve heard good things about b*****s. It wouldn’t be the worst career move. I wonder if there’s a union? #jobsecurity

Mile 6: The devil is a lie. I’m going home. It’s not like anybody will know. My veins, arteries, dreams, aspirations, middle toes and future all share one collective hurt. I’m going to sleep until Tuesday. Wait. I have to go to work tomorrow! Dammit!!

Halftime… “Recovery Zone”: never ending heart palpitations, severe dehydration, attempted surrender #almostdoesntcount #italmostdidtoday. I think I can feel my aorta attempting to climb up my esophagus to die in my mouth. Mostly because that’s the only place where there is any liquid left in my body.

Mile 1(7): I hate everything about myself. What is that saying? The first time it’s a mistake. The second time you ate the wrong mf’ing pill now you’re following a white rabbit into the Matrix and knocking vases over. There are no shoe stores in the Matrix. #WelcomeToHell

Mile 2(8): Don’t be a hero. Just walk. Nobody can see you. I mean seriously, nobody can see you. You might be the last person crossing the finish line.

Mile 9(3): I’m never running again.

Finish: I’m absolutely never taking this medal off. Ever.

Post-Race: *no lives left* *game over*

There are lots of reasons why this race was quite possibly my worst performance on the pavement. Well, first of all, the Bay Area decided not to pay the PG&E bill in November and December so it’s been hella cold. I thought about going to run at lunch one day from the warmth of my office. My entire being clenched up like Miss Celie when Miss Sophia was about to give her the BIZNESS in dem fields. The last time I ran and meant it, I was in Las Vegas. That was November 17^th. Today is December 22^nd. You do the differential equation.

I also decided that the night before The Double was the BEST night to try Hangar One vodka. Objectively speaking, it’s pretty damn good. But, when have I ever been objectively speaking to you? I hate everything about vodka and hangers…just like ole chick #namethatmovie. I never want to see another bottle of that awesome vodka you can totally purchase and gift to me (see website) again! #justcoverthelabel #drinkandbuylocal

I ran and watched as I lost pieces of my life fall to their impending doom #thepavement. The pain I felt on today will always be remembered. Mostly because it reminded me just why I do this. Back at Mile 5 whilst reviewing the benefits package that came along with being one’s b***h #notbad I noticed that I was clearly holding up the rear #practicingformynewjob. I got so sad in that moment. Sad that I might actually come in last. That was a depressing and defeating feeling. I didn’t think about all the reasons why I was in the position I was in (poor planning, training, nutrition, hangers of vodka). I was just jogging and feeling some kind of way. How could I lose? Because that’s what coming in last is, right? Or is it wrong? Losing.

And for some people, tis’true, if they are not first, they are absolutely last #RickyBobby. There is no eternal glory, medals or trophies. The finish line banner has already been torn and the confetti tossed. You would be lucky if anyone waited long enough to see you get your Mr. Irrelevant hat and photo shoot. Who watches all the rounds of the draft anyway? Nobody!  And by nobody, I mean me. But you know where I was going with that…

But what have I been saying to myself all this time that I did not remember on today? This is about earning MY medal. No points for speed, run/jog technique, playlist, pedicure, or outfit. And you know how I feel about putting a look together! Being awesome at all those things is great, but starting and finishing is the only thing that counts when the medal is at stake. Crossing the start line and crossing the finish. Come what may and praying against rain #blackgirlhairprobs. What does it matter that I crossed the finish line after everyone else? Did I cross it? Why is it so damn important to “beat” you?

I hate that I started to make this about someone else. About beating other people. About how people might feel if they found out I came in last (maybe I did today, maybe I didn’t…who’s to say?). It’s always been about me. Me starting. Me finishing. And most of all, #MedalMonday.

2 Races (today)

1 Medal (around my neck)

0 Feeling (in my feet)

Yea, that adds up to a win to me. Even though technically, I ran 2 races and only got 1 medal #TheSwindle.

And yes. I wrote this from the same Starbucks I ungodly’d this morning. I'm back with my medal. And, yes I have on a Cowboys t-shirt from Old Navy, Yoga pants from (old *jokes*) Toni and Cowboys slippers from (old *jokes again*) Uglee. #JudgeMe Only, you’ll have to come here to do it. I can’t move.

Yo, can I get a ride tho? I’m (still) in Pleasanton.