In lieu of a marathon I signed us up for The Ballard Turkey Trot, a family friendly 5K that takes place near Golden Gardens.
In preparation for our big race, we did nothing.
I think I ran a few times that week, but in all fairness it was raining, like a lot and Fall is a time for cozy sweatshirts and a roaring fire, not long, marathon type runs.
Needless to say that morning I was a little on edge. I didn't eat anything which is a real big problem for me and I kept imaging that awful image of that long distance runner with poop running down his leg because he just couldn't hold it. I took an Imodium. This was a family race and I didn't want a scene and if anyone was going to have poop running down their legs, it was going to be a baby in a stroller, not me.
Not me!
It took like forever, for us to get into Ballard. At the point of, like forever, I was on the edge of my seat. I felt like I was running the marathon of my life, I was preparing myself like that anyway, because I like to hype things up in my mind to be outrageously stressful. Its a super fun hobby of mine.
We parked down at Golden Gardens, next to the finish line. It was a beautiful November day. In the parking lot were Pilgrims and Indians, Forks and Knives and a massive amount of Turkeys.
This was the biggest race day of my life and these people were dressed like Thanksgiving on the Mayflower.
Show some respect, assholes.
We followed the crowd and it dawned on me that they were hiking up the stairs, to the top of Golden Gardens.
What.
I don't know what I was expecting, but it sure as shit wasn't a sweaty, balls to the wall, 90 degree angle hike up no less than 1.2 billion fucking stairs before the race.
The race of my life people!
But that's what we got.
Charlie kept talking about how this was a great warm up and how happy he was that we got to get a little cardio in before hand, to get us good and ready to do our best.
All I could say was nothing.
Apart from being totally shocked and appalled that he would think a fucking hike was a great way to start our already going to be active day, I literally could not breathe. My butt was on fire and there was a massive stitch in my side. I was slowly and surely dying and I hadn't even stepped foot on the damn course yet.
Finally, we made our way onto the course.
Heavy breathing and cursing whomever made that executive decision, we picked up our fancy Turkey Trot T-shirts and lined up.
We soaked up all the sunshine and the excitement of the other runners, after about 10 minutes we were off with a bang, cheering and clapping and shouts of encouragement.
After a few minutes of ducking the families and breaking out of the way of slower runners and faster runners alike Charlie and I fell into step with each other.
I could see him out of the corner of my eye and I could tell that he was going way slower than he normally would if I weren't around.
"Hey, can I go ahead?"
"Yeah, yeah!" I heavy breathed.
Charlie going on ahead and letting me run on my own was probably the best thing we could have done for ourselves.
I'm 5'4, he's 6'0. His stride is twice mine on a slow day. He can smoke a pack of cigarettes, drink a six pack, eat a disgusting burger and run 7 miles without breaking a sweat.
I cannot.
Go on ahead, husband.
Make me proud!
Mile one was super easy.
We had cheerleaders with signs all over the place, people were looking out their windows and waving, I was getting high-fives all over the damn place. I could run forever!
Mile 2, things started getting a little shaky.
I could hear a child crying in close proximity to me. I looked to find the source of the screams and I saw a mother with an older child, probably Steves age, wearing a race shirt and absolutely howling with rage.
"WHAT ARE WE DOING? WHYYYYY"
"We're halfway through. You're not making this any easier on me or you!"
I wanted to run and scoop up that kid and take him to ice cream, because he was vocalizing how I felt. I just couldn't start screaming "WHYYYYYY!" to myself. People would think that was weird and we don't want that.
As I silently screamed, "WHYYYYYY!" for a few more minutes, we turned a downslope and I could see the water.
"I can see it! Serenity! Salvation! Food maybe!"
I felt like I'd seen an oasis in the middle of a dessert that I had been wandering through for years.
But as with all oasis' the closer I came the farther away it drew.
I panicked.
"How is this happening? Why is the finish line running away from me? Am I hallucinating? How long have I been out here? What day is it?"
I stopped and walked long enough to feel fresh blisters forming all along the pads of my feet and toes and to take off my sweatshirt and stuff my beanie in my pocket.
I picked up speed again and then took a little 5 walk breather.
Just as I was thinking about walking the rest of the way, an angel straight from the pearly gates came unto me in the form of a screaming race coordinator.
"Just 1/4 mile you guys. 5 more minutes everyone!"
I screamed with a renewed vigor, "THANK YOU!" and started flat out running.
My renewed vigor did not last long.
I finally came up onto the beach and picked up speed as I jumped around people and tried to stay on the path.
I could see the finish line.
It was right there.
Tears, yes, tears welled in my eyes.
I crossed the finish line and jogged off to the side.
I just did that.
I just did that.
I'm so amazing.
I found Charlie a little way ahead of me in the crowd and we talked for a minute to discover that I was only a few minutes behind him, which made me even more proud of myself.
After we stretched by the car for a few minutes we went and picked up the kids.
I got them all ready for Thanksgiving and they looked adorable.
Steve was pretty pumped about the race, he proclaimed he was going to run a marathon with us which made me swell with pride.
We went to my Dads house and stuffed ourselves with an assortment of delicious foods and Prosecco and I didn't even feel bad about all the calories.
It was also my Grandma Barnfather's birthday, the first one since my Grandpa passed away so it was icing on the cake to be able to watch her blow out her birthday candles with us.
All in all, I did not run a marathon.
I ran 3.2 miles on a nice November day.
I didn't break any records or raise a crazy amount of money in the name of an illness, but I felt pretty damn good about myself.
Enough that Ill hike up those God forsaken steps and do it again next year.
Cheers.
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