First things first. After wanting to shove someone’s head into a wall, I am registered for the Boston Marathon 2011! I knew registration would be a fiasco, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating.
Sam: Mom do we have any raisin toast?
Me: Don’t talk to me. I’m trying to register.
Emma: Is it like trying to get Taylor Swift tickets?
Me: Yep, only I didn’t have to run 3:42 for that.
Emma: Mom what does it mean if I have a temperature of 100 degrees and my ear hurts?
Me: Can’t talk. Trying to register.
Sam: Mom the house is on fire and Ryan Hall is on the phone.
Me: Don’t talk to me. Trying to register.
Okay. Got my confirmation email. Patriot’s Day and I have a date. Back to meeting everyone's needs.
What a weekend. I kept busy, mostly to forget that I wasn’t going to be running on Sunday. Problem is, with the damn crutches, there is no forgetting. My underarms are bruised. My right leg is twitching from having to carry all the weight. But, my ass has not yet grown in size and I’m hoping I can keep it that way over the next few inactive weeks.
We hit the expo on Saturday, then met some friends for lunch who you might recognize: Adam (Boring Runner), Tara (Tara Loves to Run) and Jill (Run with Jill). Ken, my kids and Adam’s wife, Tiffany, were there too:
There was beer involved which obviously helped Adam’s race (3:23) and Ken’s (1:44 – a 5 minute PR).
I liked the feeling of Jill’s Boston medal in my hands. Sorry, Jill. I think it’s stuck. I’ll give it back later. Have another beer and you’ll never know it’s gone. Quick kids, shove it down my pants.
“Gimpy”, “boring”, “heel injury” and “aching ass” (nicknames). Out of all of us only Adam was uninjured and about to run. He’s also the only one with a penis.
Sunday sunrise as the kids and I headed to Denver at 7am, hoping to find Ken at the half finish
Always a good view coming into the city:
Getting to the finish was quite the effort. We parked, caught a shuttle, then I hobbled 5-6 blocks around puking runners and millions of annoying spectators (like me) just in time to see Ken cross the line.
Ken and kids at the half finish. A new medal and PR! What’s that growing out of his head?
I like this lime green jacket because it makes me look like I have boobs. Thanks, Vicki's Secret, for the padded bra.
Taking the shuttle back to the car so we could start tracking my friend Joie in the marathon. What the hell is Sam doing? He looks like he belongs with all the homeless folks out on the streets of Denver.
So…Joie was running her first ever marathon. She is also my guinea pig. I created her training plan and coached her to the start line. She got there healthy and strong (except for some diarrhea last week. Sorry, Jo, had to put that in). We managed to find her and cheer her on at miles 15, 18, 23 and the finish (runner tracking texts sent to your phone are the best invention ever). I love this picture. This is in Washington park at about Mile 15. Looking good!
Mile 18, also in Washington Park:
There she goes…
Here she comes!! 26.2 miles in 4:41. Rock star!
Here’s what I learned:
- Everyone looks like shit at mile 23
- Crutches in crowds suck, but can be used as a weapon to move people out of your way
- If you have the time and the commitment, you can do it
- Bloggers make for some very good friends
- There is always another race
- It’s easier to get Taylor Swift tickets than to register for Boston.
- It’s easier to get Taylor Swift tickets than to qualify for Boston.
- Watching your husband and dear friend cross the finish line after months of training makes up for being injured (well, almost)
- Porta potties smell like shit
Tomorrow is another day,