A few musings from my latest adventure in mental toughness and foot torture...
Runner’s Diary Fancy Hotel: Always spring for the worst room at the nicest hotel. I know the Bitches are enjoying the farm, but this is a nice change of pace for me.
Runner's Diary Bathroom Line at Hotel Pre-Race: "I don't know why Bruce Jenner cut his dick off to deal with that," King Ignorant said and pointed at the ladies' line. I shot him a death glance that burned with the fire of a thousand suns. He went back to his rock.
Runner's Diary Staring Corral D: Let me have a good run. Let me finish. Let me be brave. I am a Brownhead. Twelve seconds later, it's raining.
Runner's Diary 1-3ish: The steady rain makes for a nice layer of wetness as the sweating begins. Can't wait to feel this in the shower later... Chafing is serious business, people.
Runner's Diary 4: While crossing the Warhol Bridge, "Take Me With U" by Prince shuffled through. Sometimes life is so right.
Runner's Diary 11: I am passed by a 6'3, shirtless ginger with a man bun and a bled-out tiny back tattoo. I thought I may be hallucinating, but too many people in this race have tiny, bled-out tattoos. I feel like Vishnu should run PSAs or something.
Runner's Diary various miles: Three fun fellas are running the marathon in wedding dresses. At one point, I ask what the deal was with the dresses. One dude shoots back, "Why are you wearing a shirt?" In this week's sign of growth, I do not say, "Because I bleed too much when I pin my bib to my gut," but rather, "I am genuinely interested." They are running for a charity that works with nutrition. (I did beat all of them. Barely.)
(SIDEBAR: Lots of races have charity runner entries—if there is a race you would like to do but aren’t sure you could hit a qualifying time, don’t want to risk a lottery, or just want to support a cause in which you believe, check the charity section of the race website!)
Runner's Diary Somewhere around 18: Steel City Greyhounds!!!! Dogs and Bitches everywhere. I got to love up a sweet brindle girl named Ryder. Of course, I tell the volunteers about Alli and Joey. All the miles for the Brownheads.
Runner's Diary 18.8: Wondering why I continue to do this to myself and secretly plotting my retirement announcement. What do I have left to prove? Also, I could pull an MJ retirement and try out for the Canaries next season.
Runner's Diary 20: Hipsters with Donald Trump caricatures declare their turf the "No Walk Block" and pledge to make America gait again.
Runner's Diary 20ish: A kind Italian-looking man was running the block with people who needed it. "I got you to the end of the block," he said. I said something about hills and at the end of the block, he put his hand on the sweaty small of my back to guide me down the street as he said, "You got this."
Runner's Diary Mile Unknown Due to Runner's Brain Fry: A band begins to play, "I walk along the avenue" as I down a water and side belch. I take another cup, swish, and spit as he sings, "I never met a girl like you..."
Runner's Diary 23: The route declines and I know I will live to see another race. The Ting Tings scream, "That's not my name" and I give this mile hell for Paul and Lee. Visions of Matt Foley impressions dance in my head.
Runner's Diary 25.9: A woman yells, "You're a Runner of Steel now!" I feel my eyes welling up, but am unsure if there is enough salt left to actually cry. Then...
Runner's Diary 26.2: When the announcer says, "There's Julie from Sy-X Falls, North Dakota!" I find plenty of energy to scream at him, "I am from SOUTH Dakota!" The reaction was so visceral I am wondering what my underlying issues with North Dakota may be...
Runner's Diary Finish Line: I am unable to open a water bottle. My hands are wet and every article of clothing is soaked. "Get over here!" I hear to my right. Cute EMS guys save the day in so many ways.
Runner’s Diary Mile 27: Journey back to the hotel best described as a “Walking Dead” audition. When I homeless woman asks me for a dollar, I hand her the banana I am holding. She remarks that she would rather have the bag of chips I am holding. She gets side-eye. That's my salt.
Runner's Diary Mile 27.5: I run into four ladies who congratulate me and one says, “We just did the half.” No “just,” ladies. They ask where I am from, so I tell them the whole #runfordick story, which leads into #bitchlife and #fitbitches.
Runner’s Diary Shower After Realizing the Rain-soaked Base Actually Caused my Bra and Waist pack to Cut into my Back and Hips: Cue screaming and cursing.
Runner's Diary Travel Edition: Pretzeled into planes isn't fun the day after a marathon, but I did get in some inappropriate stretching at F16. You're welcome, Chicago.