I had a race this morning, well, I say ‘race’, but it was the Mother’s Day Classic. One thing I’d forgotten about this particular event is that the route is a little on the stupid side. That many people, trying to keep a good pace all at once on tiny narrow bike paths around the lake? Never going to be a great result. I don’t think I did particularly badly, though. It was a fun morning. A little on the cold side, but it didn’t rain. My legs feel great in the aftermath. My feet are messed up, but they were messed up before I even got out there.
I know I should feel guilty that I didn’t train very well. I didn’t take care of myself, I got up to mischief, and somehow had the nerve to feel surprised when everything started to hurt at the 3km mark. Funny, that.
Here’s an idea. I should write a list of all the things that I shouldn’t do the night before a race. A nice long list, in order from the most innocuous to the most debauched. Then, I should go out the night before a race and do as many of these things as I possibly can. Because the things that can fuck up a race are also the most fun things to get up to on a Saturday night. And that’s a solid fact. There’s no point to any of this running junk if I can’t use it to excuse my excesses.
Example:
You went out last night and got fall-down drunk and ate a whole pie?
Ah, that’s okay. You ran 20kms this morning. Good on you.
It’s a brilliant thought, but now that I think about it, people are a lot more likely to call me an idiot for drinking and smoking and misbehaving, simply because I am a runner. Because for some reason, I’m supposed to have a conscience and be fitness-minded. Whereas non-runners, they don’t have to give a shit.
I’m never going to be winning any marathons. I’m never going to be fast or feel incredibly fit. I could try for years, deny myself all the fun stuff, but what’s the point?
Here I go, being distracted again. I kinda forgot what my point was supposed to be with this post. Probably something to do with the Mother’s Day Classic.
Oh, here’s something. Their medals are shite. I know that a lot of the people who run this particular event aren’t serious runners, but who was the rocket scientist who came up with the convertible medal dealie? They just had this sudden brainwave, I know, let’s make the medals into keyrings, on a lanyard. That way, people who don’t dig medals can have a pretty pink keyring. And the people who DO like medals, well, they can have a cheapass piece of crap keyring on a lanyard which they can pretend is a medal.
LAME
Actually, feeling a little bad for saying that as it’s a charity-based event. How will I ever alleviate my conscience? I know. Hey, you guys. Go donate some money to Breast Cancer research or something. What, you want a hyperlink? I don’t have anything. Google the Mother’s Day Classic. You know how to google, don’t you?
I’m off to sleep now, like an old person. Have a photo.
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