Most depressing moment of the week: Watching the Seattle 1/2 Marathon participants take off without me.
Not that I should really be complaining, because if that was my most depressing moment, then I’ve had a pretty good week 🙂
It was a stupid depressing moment, because there wasn’t any real reason that I didn’t run the Seattle half. I am not injured, I’m in reasonably good shape, and the race wasn’t sold out. My aunt/favorite family running buddy was participating. I just didn’t want to shell out the $100 bucks. If I could do it all over again, I would be $100 poorer. Running a race is priceless. (Well, not really. I don’t know if it would be worth a million dollars to run down soggy Seattle streets, but you get the idea.)
I told myself that I would go to the race and take good pictures. I never get good race photos because I’m always running. That plan failed as it was raining (of course) and I didn’t want to get my camera wet.
I told myself that I would go to the race and sell hand warmers to raise money for Team in Training. That plan failed as nobody wanted to buy hand warmers. And I hate selling things. I did give a bunch of the warmers to some homeless guys, so that made me happy.
I told myself that I would go and cheer on my aunt. That plan did actually work, but I think my aunt would have felt cheered anyways. Less than two and a half hours after the starting gun went off, she danced out of the finish line chute with her medal and a smile that can only be brought on by post-race endorphins.
“I feel so good! I could run another three miles!” She exclaimed as we headed to the recovery area.
“I feel so good! I could run another five miles!” She exclaimed as we headed to the car.
I didn’t doubt her – she’s one tough aunt. Case in point: She ran the Spokane ½ last month and tripped, going down head-first at mile twelve. She stopped for some emergency first aid, but couldn’t get that finisher’s medal out of her bruising head. With a race aid worker by her side, she finished the race and headed directly to Urgent Care for eight stitches. She ran her first ½ marathon trail run a few weeks later.
Be like my aunt. Run first, stop the bleeding* later.
Don’t be like me. Lay down that credit card,* pin on your race number and go.
*Note: I am not to be held responsible for any episodes of fainting due to blood loss or decreases in credit card ratings due to unreasonable race charges.