It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. Life’s been busy lately, and frankly, I haven’t felt very inspired, nor felt I had anything very interesting to blog about. I still don’t, but I’m bored and sweaty, so I figured I’d jot a little something down. What the hell. If you’ve read my previous blogs, you’d know that I recently trained for and ran a 10 mile race, which I still firmly believe I was drugged into doing. Following, please find a brief and descriptive recap of my big race day:
12AM – 2AM: Holy shit. What did I do???
3AM: Should I start carbo loading now? I think I have to poop. I should probably try to sleep. I wonder if running without underwear would be a bad idea or a good idea?
4AM: Holy shit. What did I do???
5AM: Screw you, alarm. 5 more minutes, Ma! Wait… SHIT! I have to go run 10 miles! Wait… Is it raining?!?! Rain was not in the forecast! This will not be good for my prone-to-frizziness hair.
6AM: Is it safe for me to be driving loaded up on all this Gatorade?
7AM: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.
7:30AM (Race start): Someone please trample me so I don’t have to do this.
7:30AM – 7:40AM (Mile 1): UPHILL? Why are we starting UPHILL?? I’m gonna die. Hey, that old dude just passed me! Suck it up, Paula. Fuck up the old dude!
7:40AM – 8:25AM (Miles 2 – Mile 5): Huh. This isn’t so bad. I’m actually kind of relaxed. Good pace, P-Dawg (That’s what I call myself sometimes)! You can do this. You’re kicking ass! I wonder how my butt looks when I run?
8:25AM – 8:35AM (Mile 6): Woo-hoo! Downhill! I like this part! I can do this shit all day!
8:35AM – 8:45AM (Mile 7): What happened to the downhill? This is bullshit! Don’t tell me I’m looking good, you Gatorade-toting slut. Just hand it over and shut your hole.
8:50AM – 9:00AM (Mile 7-1/2 – 8-1/2): Ohhhhhhhhhhh crap. Downhill is now uphill. Gonna die. Someone kill me now. Please, God, let a semi come barrelling down the street to run me over. Shit! Cute cop up ahead! Smile, Paula, smile! Pretend you’re ok. Stop drooling! Stop drooling! Look sexy! Wait… Are my legs seizing up? This could be bad.
9:00AM – 9:15AM (Mile 8-1/2 – 10): Can I crawl? Would that be OK? Shit… another cute cop! Sexy, Paula, Sex…. Aw, fuck it. Sexy left the building a couple miles back.
9:15AM (Finish Line): Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Water. Water. Water. Bagel. Water. Mimosa. Bloody Mary.
I don’t remember much after this, until my friend said something about free massages, and I had a stranger rub my lower half. Normally I’d be opposed to this kind of inappropriate touching from a stranger, but at that point, I didn’t much care what anyone did to me as long as they didn’t make me run any more.
In all seriousness, this was a huge accomplishment for me. I signed up on a whim, not really believing I’d be able to commit myself to the training, but I did, and for that, I’m extremely proud of myself. I’ve never been athletic in the least, so this was definitely a challenge. My goal was to finish the race in under 2 hours, and I kicked that goal’s ass by 16 minutes. And now, it turns out, I’m pretty fired up to beat my own ass next year. This is a far cry from the girl who, immediately after the race, told her friend, and I quote: “I am never doing this fucking bullshit ever again.”. Guess I’m just a glutton for punishment. Or I just enjoy having firm thighs and being post-race groped. One of those.
Paula In The Country 