Go, Jeff! It’s Your Birthday!

Sunday I ran a 5K on the trails. I was missing competition and feeling like a slacker in the three weeks since my IM, so I decided to lace up my new trail-running shoes and have at it. Plus, they were forecasting rainy, hurricane-like conditions for my birthday, and this seemed like just the right amount of suffering as a prezzie for myself.

It was so short that I’m going to give you an almost real-time recap of the event, starting the morning of.

7:30 — Wakey wakey! It’s time to go race!! Woo! What’s up with all of this sun? If this were a triathlon, I would probably be swimming by now. And seriously, sun? I thought there was supposed to be rain.

8:50 — Guess I’d better leave the house. I need a chance to warmup before the race, otherwise I’ll spend half my race getting in the groove. Man, it’s warmer than I expected! Better grab a short-sleeve shirt.

9:10 — This guy directing me toward registration seems very friendly. Hmm . . . There are more fast-looking dudes here than the last time I ran this race.

9:15 — The gray-haired woman at the registration table only has dollar bills for change, and I get 15 of them. I wonder if I joked that I can now go to the gentleman’s club and make it rain on my birthday whether that would go over well. Better not risk it.

9:30 — I’m warm. Time to change the shirt. And grab a banana from my bag. And test my blood sugar. 210 mg/dL (11.7 mmol/L). Meh. Let’s take a wee bit of insulin, too.

9:45 — A couple of miles for a warm up seems good. These new shoes . . . I dunno if they’re going to have enough arch and ankle support. They definitely have copious, grippy tread, though. I remember the beginning, on-road part of this race feeling long. It’s true. Try to hold back at the start, Jeff. Pffft, whatevs, Jeff’s brain. Let’s go for another 10 minutes or so.

9:50 — Shit! Everybody’s lined up. I’m going to miss the start.

9:55 — Oh hai, everybody. We’re going to sing the national anthem? I don’t like singing the national anthem. Mostly because I don’t like to sing. And it engages the liberal arts, social constructivism part of my brain, which really I don’t have time for right now. “. . . can you see, by the dawns early light? . . .”

9:57 — I forgot that the race director is a crier. She’s keeping it together really well. Oh god, she’s thanking the volunteers; this could push her over the edge. Whew! She held on.

9:58 — I’m just going to move to the right a bit so that I’m not behind these two 10 year-old girls. They could be badass awesome, for sure. Or I could need to move over in about 100 yards. These guys’ shoes look fast. I’m not going to be in front, but they seem like good people to follow.

10:00 — And we’re off! TOO FAST! T-O-O F-A-A-A-A-S-T!! Oh, fuck it. YOLO.

10:04 — STILL TOO FAST! At least we’re off the road now.

10:06 — Hello, person to my left. Let me introduce you to my elbow. I’m not going to run through that tree you’re edging me into. It’s my line, yo.

10:08 — Hey, first mile. This is where my face almost became one with the forest floor last time. These shoes are awesome! This is starting to feel pretty tough.

10:10 — There’s that uphill I remember. Gah, this sucks. Why do I run 5K races? Because—like heroin—they’re plentiful and cheap. Now shut-up brain and run.

10:15 — “Heartbreak Hill” . . .Hahaha! That’s funny.

10:16 — Must. Not. Vomit.

10:18 — Oh goodie! Downhills!! I love Love LOVE downhills! Sweeeeet!

10:18:15 — Ugh. Uphill. Again.

10:19 — Sweeeeeeet!

10:22 — Oh crap! I’m not sure I’m going to make this turn coming off this fast downhill after going over a rock wall and crossing a street. Whew. Made it. I see the finish!

10:23 — Nobody’s going to pass me now.

10:24:26 — Wooo! Done!!

10:24:29 — Oh, don’t throw up. Let’s just keep walking.

10:25:29 — “Hey good job, kid!” How old is this little speedster? 8? 9? [He was 8.]

10:27 — BG is 200 (11.1). Just what I expected. Hey, there are still donuts left! Go, Jeff; it’s your birthday. Eat a donut like it’s your birthday.

10:27 — That guy who directed me to registration thinks my name is “Dan” and that I had a good race. I hope Dan isn’t too confused the next time they meet.

10:28 — Well, I guess it’s time to go home and get ready to celebrate the rest of my birthday with Lisa.

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3 Responses to Go, Jeff! It’s Your Birthday!

  1. Nancy Patrick says:

    Enjoyable read….thanks for sharing. Glad you had a great race on your birthday!

  2. Scully says:

    I love this way of writing!
    Nice run and Happy Birthday!

  3. Victoria says:

    This is hilarious! From the crier to the toooo faaaaaast to the must not vomit. I may copy this style after my next race. Thanks!

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