Yesterday, my sister Jen signed us up for the Carlsbad 5000 and told me to be at her apartment at 8:45-9 a.m. today.
Well, I set my alarm wrong. I randomly woke up at 9. I called her and told her I’d slept in and to [please] make me some whole wheat toast with peanut butter and slices of banana. (I just now added the “please.”)
She agreed, of course. 🙂
When I get to her place, she is waiting in her car already. I haven’t brushed my hair or applied sunscreen or had any coffee. I get in her passenger seat, she hands me the p.b. toast, and the first thing I say is, “Where’s the banana?” She laughs and hands me that separately. I can’t explain why the diva act is funny to us.
At the race, she shakes her head at me when I come out of the port-a-potty with my race number pinned temporarily askew using one pin hanging from one boob, a water bottle tucked under my chin, my iPod in my mouth, and one hand holding a dollop of anti-bacterial. Of course we run into one of Jen’s co-workers.
Jen has to attach my microchip thingy and fix my iPod holder for me and everything. I’m a mess. Except I’m the one who finds the bathrooms and later gets us into the beer garden and spots the race results and all that.
It’s now 10:15. I go up to a race volunteer and I’m like, “Where do we start running?” She says the arch thing is around the corner.
I leave Jen with the 7-minute milers and push my way back to the 10-minute group. I walk until I’m face to face with an old, fat lady and I stop right in front of her and turn around.
The Star Spangled-Banner starts. I am the only one to take off my hat. I bet Zach would have done the same. I almost start crying during like half of the race because it’s just so emotional—the crowds, the live music, the banners and cheering. It’s a gorgeous day and the ocean looks beautiful.
At one point in the race, you have to do a U-turn, so I was able to see my sister in the front pack, when it’s still runners in a trickle, before you get to the sad masses I run with.
I haven’t run a race in two years. So I did a warm-up pace, an easy jog. I was hooting and hollering at my sister, whoo-hoo-ing people with tequila signs, waving at the junior high cheerleaders on the sidelines, and high-fiving the guys at the 91X booth. I was a little out-of-breath by the time I got to the final 300 feet and sprinted it out.
My sister finished a full 9 minutes ahead of me. Which, in just 3.1 miles, is a LOT faster. She even said to me, “There were strollers in your group?” Several!
But I mean, I haven’t run 3 consecutive miles in forever. I was pretty sure I could push it out, though, and I really didn’t want to walk. Anything else was above and beyond. I was proud of my 10:05-ish pace.
Overall, out of 1265 runners, I placed 714 and Jen placed 86. Of 1,002 women, I placed 545 and Jen placed 74. For our division, I placed 220 out of 357; Jen placed 43.
Next, we head to the beer garden. Unfortunately, it’s a chick fest because the timeslot for our race was for women only, ages 30-39. My sister was bummed because a security guard was checking IDs and we didn’t bring ours. I told the guy, “We don’t have IDs, but we just ran in the 30-39-year-old category! If I’d brought my license, I would’ve had to stick it in my bra, and then it would be all sweaty!”
My sister was surprised I got us in. But then she says all I do is mention boobs or a bra or a top, and it always works. She’s probably right, except that’s not what happened yesterday when the guy at the Apple store replaced my iPhone for free. All I did was tell him I’d dropped it in the toilet. He’d said, “Well, it’s not covered in the warranty, but this one time I can replace it…although if you drop it again…”
Anyway. It was a good weekend. A 5K run and a free iPhone. Time for a nap.