I'm going to attempt to make a post (finally!) in between telephone rings to catch you up on what has happened in the last week and a half. The irony is that I've told exactly two people about this blog, one of whom was with me and the other who follows us online anyway. He's good like that.
First thing's first.... The latter friend mentioned above qualified for Boston at Tuscon recently! I tracked him online and knew that day, but I thought that I'd wait until he was able to tell people before posting a GIANT CONGRATULATIONS to M!
Secondly, I went down to Dallas for White Rock with a group of Landrunners last weekend. Side note...for anyone who stumbles upon this blog, OKC Landrunners is the name of our running club. Anyway, I struggled about this because by the time I made the decision to go, the half was closed and I really had no desire to run the full...mostly because I recently learned that so much of the course is concrete, but partly because I didn't care to run around the lake. I really wanted to be there, though, because Bill Rodgers, Dick Beardsley, and a lot of club members were going and I knew we'd have a great time. So I began making deals with the running gods.
Deal number one: I'd need new shoes since mine were shot after the Rock-n-Roll San Antonio Marathon last month, so I'd go to The Runner and if they had them in, then I'd have to run White Rock. Well, I get there and they were out of my size....so I start conjuring up my next deal.
Deal number two: I'd head straight to the expo (after all, Dallas is only three hours away) and if they had my shoes, then I'd have to sign up. I checked the Run On booth, but they were out so I popped over to the Luke's Locker (think that's the name...my apologies if not) booth. I scoured the shelves for my Nike Pegasus size 8. Yes, my feet are, in fact, that big. My grandpa used to say to me that something that big ought to be able to breathe on its own! Anyway, these are one of the few shoes, relatively speaking, that are made for true supinators so they generally aren't stocked very well. One of the workers came over to help me look and we found the one remaining pair. Well, I still wasn't ready. I needed something else to seal the deal, so to speak.
Deal number three (aka shut the hell up and just register, Adi): I needed to find Bravo. He was there to do the announcing at the expo, as well as the start and finish of the races, which is a perfect role for him. He is hands-down one of the most motivating running mentors out there and I knew that it would be a go if he gave any implication that I should bite the bullet. Well, what do you think he said? "Go on athlete. You feel good, don't race it (like I ever race these things!), and just enjoy it." He's so much more tactful about these things, I'm thinking, as my mind is just screaming to "shut the hell up and just register, Adi!" So over to the registration booth I go.
Can you believe that at this point I'm still fighting with myself?! I think I've exhausted myself worrying about running on all that concrete and I'm starting to act like a toddler who needs a nap....pouting and pissy. I'm hiding it well, though, as I do have some sense of self-awareness. Besides, it's nobody else's fault that my legs are choosy about their running surface. In any case, the volunteers directed me to a computer to submit my information and then I'd pay them to complete the registration. I jiggle the mouse so the screen would appear, and there's the box telling me to choose my event. The only choice available is the marathon, so I click it really fast as if taking .5 seconds to click as opposed to 1 full second is going make a difference. I felt sort of like I was standing in the doorway of a plane with a parachute strapped to my back trying to decide if sky-diving is really the right thing for me...a bit dramatic, I know. After telling the computer my name, age, and who to contact in case my legs crumble into little bits on the course I take two steps to the left to pay the guy. That's when he asks me, "Now which event are you registering for?" In this befuddled, yet zombie like state I said "I clicked full because that was my only choice. Is the half an option?" "Well, today it is for you," he says. If it wouldn't have been totally inappropriate, not to mention weird, I would've leapt across the counter (undoubtedly there to protect the volunteers from crazy, self-argumentative runners like myself) and hugged him!
Okay, my phone will not stop ringing so I'm going to have to put this on hold for now. Stay tuned...