see what I did there? I crack myself up.
It was a cool day, this April morning...a cool fog hung low over Chrissy Field, muffling the sounds of the announcer reminding us how to put on our toe tags (or, since that was too morbid for the guy who walked up, bent over, and fixed mine, the shoelace timer chip) and making sure we all were ready to start running, if only to keep warm.
After a...umm...stirring rendition of the national anthem, the countdown began and we were off running.
The course this year was super crowded. My friend A got a good lane and sprinted off ahead of us, basically kicking @ss on the race. We could see her running hard ahead of us and tried to cheer her on...but yells don't carry so far over the din of Golden Gate Bridge traffic. My friend R & I were left behind her, and some people who just would not let us pass -- including the woman who pretty much threw elbows to not let us pass her as we approached the finish line. I did appreciate the people who shouted, "On the left" as they bowled past us...I need to try that tactic next time!
Each time I run one of these races, and finish, I find myself a little amazed. Me. A runner. Not a very quick one, but as The Penguin said at a speech before my first half-marathon, it is about finishing to the best of your own abilities. I think back to the days spent struggling to run a mile at soccer practice, or the coach getting mad at me for perhaps cheating on a long run for lacrosse (or at least walking a lot of it), and if you had told that girl that she would be actually looking forward to a run, much less signing up for races, she would have smacked ya in the face in disbelief.
Of course, the carrot at the end of the stick was in the form of beer. Cold, delicious beer, served up by some handsome dudes. Can't beat that!
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