I packed with great care for the Monument Avenue 10k race. Brought the preferred complicated assortment of bra’s to run in, emptied my sock drawer into the bag, and, in an unprecedented display of responsible preparedness, remembered both my nightie AND my toothbrush. Grabbed my running shoes from the coat closet on the way out the door and I also brought four pairs of heels for two nights. You never know when you’re going to need to jam. Forgot my eye-liner, though.
Saturday, March 31st, 2012. 7:30am.
Roll out of bed after a rough evening of drinking the most expensive bottle of beer ever. It was expensive because it was also the largest bottle of beer ever. And it was delicious, right to the very last drop. So was the second beer I had that night. Shower and prep for 9:06am race heat starting time.
Put on complicated assortment of bra’s. Shiny running pants. t-shirt. Fluorescent hair band.
Put on right shoe. Then I put on my other right shoe. Because I had brought two right shoes.
This is what happens when you like pink and are also an idiot. Both pairs of my running shoes are white with the same pinky/purple-y accent color. They also both have silver. Different brands, slightly different styles, same theme.
Stare at feet and laugh. Friend rolls eyes and laughs a little bit. I laugh a little bit harder. I think about crying and laugh even harder. Goddammit.
Put on flip-flops instead and abandon friend. Drive to a Dick’s Sporting Goods shop on the other side of the planet.
Wait inside the vestibule, sheltered from the rain and glare with malice at the employees cavorting about inside waiting for 9am EXACTLY before they’ll unlock the doors or make eye contact.
Other guy waiting in vestibule holding a bike tire tells me that he biked 23 miles away from his house before banging up his tire and then had to walk home because he didn’t have a repair kit on him.
I tell bike tire guy that I drove in from out of state to run in the Monument Avenue 10k that’s happening RIGHT NOW and packed two right shoes.
Employee unlocks the door. Bike tire guy tells me I can go in first.
Loiter in shoe area. Dicks employee asks if he can help. I tell him that I need a running shoe that supports a freakishly high arch. Right now.
Dicks employee points to a grey running shoe with alien green accents and tells me that this would be a good shoe for me.
I tell Dicks employee that no alien green shoe will ever be a good shoe for me and that I wanted that* one instead. (*Points to white running shoe with pinky/purple-y accent color. There is also some silver.).
Pay for shoes and adorn feet while checking out.
Rocket back across the planet to Richmond, find a parking space and hike billions of miles to the starting post. Toes start to ache because I didn’t buy the ugly green shoes.
Start race and dodge walkers with no sense of ambition or healthy competition for four miles.
10 something else.
Wheeze for two final miles. Have lost all sensation in toes.
11 something tragic.
Cross the finish line. Double over to catch breath. And also to admire shoes. Feel enormous sense of accomplishment.
11 something shortly after that.
Reunite with friend. We odiously prance off together, feeling very proud of ourselves, to see if the good people at the Bar in the Jefferson will serve us alcohol.
They will not, but we don’t know that yet.