Running (second only to drinking) Is My Favorite Sport

Way back in March, I posted Wine-a-thon (1/2), which revealed for the first time that I, minor athlete and major drinker, planned to run my very first ever half marathon, sponsored, no less, by a local winery.  Now we all had a good laugh at that one, wondering if, as was the case with Lauren one too many times in Broken Hallelujah:  notes from a marriage, I wouldn’t make it past the pre-event party to the main event. Well, I am happy to report that I DID make it to the starting line, and I DID finish that hot and hilly bastard of a race,  and I AM mighty proud of my achievement, which I owe, incidentally, to My Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Just kidding.

Though, as I started mile two, I did notice that the shirt the woman running directly in front of me was wearing literally glowed (well, not really) with this sentiment:  “I owe the ease of every step I take and every hill I climb to the light Jesus has lit inside of me.”  I attempted to stay with her, just in case  that “ease” could somehow be absorbed through osmosis.  It, unfortunately, could not.

But here I sit, two days post race, my finisher’s medal still securely hanging from a ribbon around my neck (surprisingly comfortable to sleep with/thankfullly versatile enough to go with any outfit), reflecting  on the experience of actually accomplishing that which I wasn’t sure I could a few short months ago, and remembering to thank those who, in one way or another, helped to get me across that proverbial (not to mention actual) finish line:

1.  My Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ

Just kidding.

2.  My favorite “Skinnygirl,” who offered her calming tonic and doubt-defying sedation in three great flavors (Margarita, Cosmo, and Pina Colada)…

3.  Johnny Rotten, Billie Joe Armstrong, Joey Ramone, Bruce Springsteen, and Kid Rock who let me believe…for as long as my iPod shuffle was on at least…that G-d would save the Queen, the fascist regime, while I, smoking funny things, got wasted in the heat…desperate but not hopeless (as I approached mile 10),  because a tramp like me, baby, was, in fact, born to run.

4.  Nike, for creating a running skirt so cute, you want to run just so you can wear it…

5.  The woman wearing the “LOOK AT MY FAT ASS” tee…

6.  And, finally, my loving and supportive husband who offered me nothing short of heroic and self-sacrificing support as I sweated and trained and suffered from self-doubt…who put all thoughts of his own needs on the back burner, so that he could be there for me, really be there for me, driving, feeding, and nurturing our children, so that I could realize my dream and run, run, run….

though I do still wish that he would lose those twenty pounds he has been carrying around for five years…

and that he would remember to put a damn coaster under his drink, so that I am not forever wiping those rings away after him….

and that he would realize our front foyer is in fact NOT a shoe rack, but perhaps his side of the bed could become one, if he continues to kick off his work black and browns wherever he sees fit…

As for my race finishing time, I think it would be appropriate to quote the Reverend Billie Joe Armstrong here:

“We are the last call/ And we’re so pathetic”

But finish I did, and after 13.1 miles the permission to party is, well, limitless…

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2 thoughts on “Running (second only to drinking) Is My Favorite Sport

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