Running Redemption & Real Tears

I should have known something was up. It was too damn easy. I wrote Michelle that letter. She was sooooo apologetic. I let 2012 pass. Nothing. Then 2013 rolls around. The homey (e-boogie a.k.a alicia keyeky a.k.a the real donut monster #nomnomnom) hit me up about it. Vegas. Las Vegas. Strip. THE Strip. At night. #REDEMPTION

Then it happened. I got a $20 off the race registration fees. There is a “free” backpack offer if you register by a certain date. Free entry to pre and post race parties. Hotel vacancies ON the Strip, NEAR the finish line, for HELLA cheap still available a month before the race. I. Should. Have. Known.

Race preparation went well despite an ankle sprain Labor Day weekend. I injured my ankle doing something really physically challenging. Standing up. Ankle compression sleeve seemed to take care of the minor pain and swelling as I continued to train. I was even almost to the point of wearing heels again. These. Were. Signs.

Road trip to Vegas did not work out. Had to find flights at the last minute. And I did. Reasonably priced, considering I bought them the week of the race. And I did not pay attention to any of them. The. Obvious. Signs.

Despite the minor emotional breakdown at baggage claim, I made it to the airport shuttle, to the hotel and even checked in two hours early for free #VegasTotalRewards #MoreCluesIPaidNoAttentionTo. I unpacked my clothes, shoes and flask. I grabbed my wallet and phone, and went for a walk to the Expo. With all this extra time, I thought: Why not stroll down the pavement I intend to run in 24 or so hours? Why. Not?

Expo! I’m there. I’m ready. I even have my pre-printed waiver completed, in hand, ready to be turned in to the next available volunteer. All I need is my bib number, so I can get in the correct line, and its happening. It. Is. Really. Happening.

the devil in a red race bib

Bib 3375? Isn’t that cool? Love the #3. There are 7 of us girlie gurls. And the number 5 is important too, but #illnevertell. Then, I noticed a rather physically fit runner with a bib number 19,000+ pass by. I thought to myself, that’s odd? I registered for this race much later than I did in 2011. Welp?! Maybe they thought to give me this more awesome number since they dissed me in 2011. It’s not like they could forget the epic correspondence from Virginia, right?   

Corral 3? Isn’t that cool. There goes the #3 again. It must be fate. Wait. Last time I did this race, I was in Corral 38. Maybe they don’t have as many corrals as they did last year. But how does that work with thousands of people registered for the race? Whatever, it ain’t my program. Yea I said it. Program #HigherEd. Maybe they want me in the front because I’m cute. That’s cool. I can dig it. I mean, I Am Cute.

Now, all I need to do is get into this expo and make it happen! Free stuff everywhere! Why buy supplements when they are being given away?

     Guy: Yea! Let’s get this done! Are you ready?!  
     Me: Yea, I’m sooo ready for this!

     Guy’s Friend: Let’s Rock This MARATHON! 

     Me: Um, let’s rock this HALF marathon! 

     G: You’re running the Marathon, right? 

     Me: I’m running the Half. Maybe next year I’ll think about a Marathon.

          #ANGTFaMarathonInVegas 

     G’sF: So, why are you registered for the Marathon? O_o

And now we’re all looking at my race bib. It’s red. It’s red just like their race bibs. They are running the Marathon. And apparently, I am too. Running. 26.2 miles. At night. In Las Vegas.

Have you ever heard the expression “real tears”? If you haven’t, you could have seen one in that moment. I shed a single “real tear” in the middle of the Rock N Roll Las Vegas Expo. For the next 20 minutes, my response to everything was “no”. Are you okay? No. Ready to run? No. Are you doing the Marathon? (Hell The F) No. Do you want me to call someone for you? No. What’s your name? No.

I do not recollect many times I have been so scared that I could not come up with a single intelligible response to a question I knew the answer to when my grey matter was still forming. My mind was going in circles #roundandround. I love a challenge. But, I am also quite fond of living with ample health to actually accept and succeed at said challenge. Did you know that the first person to run a marathon died? And now, I have one handed to me in the form of a red race bib. What’s it gonna be?

It’s going to be traded for a gold one. Damn that. To hell. All the way to hell, with a pit stop in Marathon, Greece. Damn that straight to hell on the Las Vegas strip at gottdamn night. I was still trying to figure out how I was going to get my almost healed ankle 13.1 miles, and you want me to do it twice? I would rather (not) leave Las Vegas without a medal, dust my Asics off and try again. #aaliyah

I mean, I do like the number 3.

Well played Michelle.

#BlackGirlsRunLasVegas

I made it to the SOLUTIONS station. They had the solution (what TV show reference was that for bonus points?). After the synapses started working in my brain, I came up with more than just “no” in response to the kind young woman waiting for me to tell her my actual name. She quickly exchanged my race bib. Red became Gold. 3375 became 17864. Corral 3 became Corral 17. And I "became" redeemed.

You know I love a good prank. That was pretty damn good.

Very Well Played Michelle.