What the Bloody Hell Was I Thinking?

Sunday's Race Course

I picked up my race packet today, filled with needlessly wasted paper, some "energy food" gimmes, my very own Livestrong bracelet (proudly made in China) and my t-shirt/race number. Ooh, I also got a timing chip that I must return either after the race or mail back or else get smacked with a $30 lost chip fee. Didn't know we were all to get chips, but, hey, guess that means this race is some kind of real deal, huh?

While I was waiting in the line that winded its way toward the back of the 24 Hour Fitness in Hancock Center, I had the opportunity to come face to face with the race course map (seen above) several times--and reality hit me like a bit 'ol Mack truck. And flattened me good.

After all, what the hell was I thinking even entering this race in the first place? (Ooh, maybe I'll get a nifty t-shirt, is what I was thinking, Gentle Reader.) I must be certifiable if I think I can run all that. Because doing a 7.25 to 7.5 miles on a treadmill is one thing; doing less than that out of doors on pavement of varying quality, breathing in air of varying quality--that's totally different.

Yep, I'm f'in nuts. Totally gone.

I keep telling myself I'll be able to do it just fine if I remember to pace myself. Yeah, right! I've never paced myself in anything. I'm notoriously impatient. I was notoriously impatient during my first 5K: The only reason I finished in the top 50 was that I wanted to get the race over and done with so I could go home. And that's honestly how I'll be approaching Sunday's race: All right, let's just get this over with already! That's not exactly a strategy endorsed by Runner's World.

Ugh.

Well, if I can get the boy or one of the feline kids to cooperate, I'll get pictures of my spiffy (and ultra-disposable) t-shirt uploaded. But don't hold your breath on that, Gentle Reader.

UPDATE
After initially turning me down--even after I pleaded with sugar and sprinkles on top--the boy finally acquiesced and donned my jersey for Sunday.


Devant


Arrière


Devant Encore
(He makes a spiffy model, don't he? He's got that "I'm so above this" look models wear down pat.)