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 17th.
Today is December 22nd. 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.