One Week After the Worcester Half Marathon
I ran the Worcester Half Marathon naked. Wait, not naked naked. (Come on reader, Worcester Fitnessites exude class as a general rule.) What I mean is that I ran the race without a watch, an ipod, a jogging belt, or any other savvy device. I was a little worried about being left alone with my thoughts for such an extended period of time, but my ipod was manufactured in 1994, and it weighs at least six pounds. It took me 13.1 miles alone with Aquagirl to conclude that I need to buy myself one of those sleek new players (maybe with some sort of watch built in?) Suggestions welcome. Despite all of this runnerly nakedness, I found myself ironically over dressed.
I suppose it’s fitting that this year’s Worcester Half Marathon began and ended with running tights. If you’ve been following this wacky training journey, you may recall that I teased our male team members about their devotion to Spandex in my very first blog. I myself was seduced by the call of the Spandex last Sunday, in a last minute unruly wardrobe selection. Despite my toasty lower half, I enjoyed the race a great deal.
If nothing else, half marathons make for extraordinary people watching. I take a keen interest in spotting runners who guiltily emerge from odd locations after stopping to relieve themselves. First place goes to the woman lurking about Franklin Street industrial park. Second place goes to the pitiful out-of-towner who found himself situated in bushes adjacent to a prestigious local academy for high school girls (you should have seen the look on his face when he realized whose woodsy corner of the world he had chosen for his pit stop).
Other highlights include mile four when a small child held up a sign reading “Run Fast Mommy #1096!” Panicked, I stared down at my number, relieved to find that I was in fact #1097, and I did not in fact have a small child that I was oddly unaware of.
I finished faster than last year. I finished with new friends. I finished with a smile on my face. If that’s not a personal record, I don’t know what is.
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