The Trial of Tribulation…and Stupidity.

There is a kind of preparation for the hardships in life.
There is planning.
There is forethought.
And then there’s me. Screw preparation. Who needs it???
Where’s the excitement, the mystery in preparing? How can one complain about all unseen and unknown forces if they are seen and known? I mean, seriously people, where is the drama when one is prepped for all that may come their way….BOR-ING.
So this past weekend, when I decided that I was going to crash the Kaiser Permanente ½ Marathon, I figured that balls to the wall, how hard would it be really to run for 13.1 miles? I felt pretty confident of my ability to haul my wide load for 8 miles, but past that…well, I tried to not think about it. No biggie, piece of cake.
I did what I could to prepare for something totally unprepared for, and that’s by shopping for new items to wear for LUCK. I’ve been doing this since…well, forever. I believe if one wears one thing that is close to them, and something new, well- you’re going to be one lucky, little Irish leprechaun no matter WHAT you are doing.
So, I went to the sale racks (I am saving for a wedding!..and I’m thrifty!)and picked out the most HIDEOUS pair of compression pants, maybe almost ever.
To be fair, I did originally buy them because of their ugliness, and the knowledge that I would probably be the only fool out on the run wearing such loud, tight, capri pants. However, once I put them on, I actually felt STRONG, and FAST, and SUPER!
And, I thought I looked pretty smoking hawt too, while we’re at it. But I also understand that to some, a piece of fugly will always be fugly. And they had fugly written all over them.
Morning of the race, I managed to rope in my girlfriend who runs 13.1 miles for breakfast, and we headed out to crash Golden Gate Park on a freaking GLORIOUS day. Ugly outfit, 3 gu gels, and my sunny attitude.
8AM the gun goes off and off we go. Easy- Peasy!
Miles 1-8 were fine. Truly. I had a small amount of pain in my left knee carried over from a heavy weight lifting session a week earlier, but still felt like this was totally NOT a big deal and was actually a little disappointed at how anticlimactic this race was turning out to be.
Then came mile 10. I began to cramp…I began to hurt. And here was the moment that my running goddess next to me began her small speech about how training would prevent the pain, the injury, and the cramps.
Grrrr….SHUT UP! I joked because she and I have never been in a fight before and I thought that this might just be that moment in our friendship where we go at it. Me, irritated that she’s right (as always) and her upset that I am so stubborn and do not listen…ever.
But, SHE DIDN’T TAKE THE BAIT!! It was her goal to get me across that finish line, and whatever it took , she would deliver. So she chatted…about anything and everything. Seriously. The weather, her students, last time she went shopping, summer vacations.
Suddenly two things happened. One, we’re at mile 12. Two, I literally could NOT bend either of my legs.
I started to get weepy. I was in so much pain; my hips, my knees, my groin muscles, my thighs. Burning, cramping, shaking. It was gross. I didn’t want any water, electrolytes, gu gels. I wanted to finish. But could I? Over MC’s dead body I was, so we pushed forward, onward, through the never ending last mile.
Hobbling, I prayed to see Roy and Rusty. I needed a pick me up. I needed to see my person and I needed to see his pride and admiration. I knew his face would be the deciding factor. We were going to meet them somewhere after the race, but to see them I knew would make the difference between success and…less success. I had a time I wanted to break, and I had half a mile to do it in.
Just when I turned to my fighting leader to lament over all things horrible in the world, who should step out of the foliage and wave at us? Roy and Rusty.
My two saviors. My chicken apple sausages of the sea.
And so, with pride and vigor, MC and I tore (lolololol, yeah..not really) across the finish line in under the time we had set out, to complete a half marathon with NO prep and NO idea.
Two days later, I’m still walking like I had a wonderful weekend away with my fiancée (wink wink). My right leg is still stubbornly trying to not extend all of the way, but minus the office jokes, I feel pretty bad ass. I’m not over the moon like I found the cure for Cancer, but I do feel like 2012 might be one fabu, spontaneous, unprepared, exciting mess. And like the little engine that could, isn’t that all anyone can hope for?


13.1. Dun and Done.

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