I am admittedly not the best night runner. I freak out all day long about what I am eating, drinking (or not drinking), plan and re-plan my outfit, stuff my car with snacks, and pack and re-pack my shoes. And by shoes (yes, that is shoe with an 's' at the end), I mean flip flops, 2 pairs of trainers, 2 pairs of flats, and god only knows what else. I literally could've outfitted a family with the amount of crap I pack for 20 minutes of actual racing. I digress...
So, on race day, I had not signed up before since I am a habitual procrastinator, so I said 'later' to the kids and headed out. While turning into the parking lot, I realized that I am the personification of millennial-ness and didn't have cash, so I had to head out and grab some. By this point, I am having a minor nervous breakdown because I am not my typical hour early. I grab my cash and head over to sign up and I am told that the last on site registration has been taken. WTF. I mean what the actual f*&k. My friend sees me literally starting to shrivel up and die in the parking lot and runs over. She, being the awesomely bad ass chick that she is, joins me in giving the registration table volunteers the evil death stare until they are forced to take my money and give me a number. Great success.
We warm up, line up, and take off. Mile 1 clicks by. Mile 2. Mile 2.000001 hits and I know that I am starting to hit the evil lactic threshold. Luckily, I am in the lead and have about a minute on the next female. Life sucks after that, but luckily I can hold on and make it over the finish line semi-intact. My girl, Becca, finishes right after me, making it a 1-2 win for Team New Balance Harrisburg. Thank the lord.
We do a have assed cool down and wait for the awards. I am super pumped because it was a decisive win, and there's no question I will be walking out with my second honey bear. They start calling the top 3 guys...then it's my turn...."and first female, Jesse something-or-other" . My stomach falls into my ground. WTF. Well, turns out, a dude was registered as a female. I find this out only by scouring the scene to find this guy with no help from the timing company, who basically told me to suck it. We get it figured out, and I leave the race with an envelope of cash and MY FREAKING HONEY BEAR. In the words of Ice Cube, "today was a good day"
