Late but not lost

I told myself Tuesday that I needed to get the blog together for today. I’d already posted to Chicklets in the Kitchen, but there was still mine, and I had every intention on reporting on the Color Run (pictures included!), and then life went on and I ran out of time, and I remembered again yesterday, and again this morning on the way to work, where the last thing I wanted to do was write where the people I work with could see it. Today was another busy one so here I am, after 10 at night, thinking, “Hey, I should post something.”

Oddly enough, I have a couple things in mind.

Firstly, I wussed out at the Color Run. Yes, I ran. I was in the 2nd wave (1K people at a time) and headed out at my usual warmup pace, and I got to the first checkpoint and saw the pink powder flying, and I thought, Holy carp, what have I done?

But when we crossed the Schuylkill to MLK Drive, I let myself stop to enjoy the view and take a few pictures. (Amen to the smart phone that arrived on Friday.) I covered my face with my rally towel and ran through, barely tinged. Good thing?

Four more color checkpoints later, I was still mostly white. I learned that if you *want* to get hit with color, you raise your arms as you run through. I’d also seen people on the other side of the color barrage, spitting orange. Didn’t look like a lot of fun so I kept my face covered, but I virtually asked for *some* marking to show I’d participated and didn’t just bogart my way through it.

Due to the heat, we lost a kilometer, which was disappointing because I’d looked forward to a Rocky-like dash down the Ben Franklin Parkway and up the steps of the Art Museum. Alas, maybe next year. Next year I plan to bring a LOT more friends so they’ll plaster me with color and I can do likewise.  So crossing the finish line was kind of a big “what, that’s it?” moment, but trust me, I didn’t hydrate enough the day before and cramped up before the first checkpoint. The water pit stop midway was a blessing.

So the race, for me, is over, and the other participants gathered in the parking lot at Eakins Oval, and every 15 minutes they’re given the go-ahead to send the contents of their color packets flying:

Awesome stuff! Except when I joined in, I ripped open my packet of pink powder, swirled it over my head…and got nothing. Barely even a scattering of pink on my Phillies cap and my still-mostly-white shirt. Trust me, next year I’m bringing a crowd and we’re plastering each other. Much to my surprise, the powder is actually quite soothing. It’s colored corn starch, and when it lands on sweat, it dries the skin. I was a fool for not diving into the stuff.

But it was a great time and I’m definitely doing it again. Next year I won’t come out of it this white, either: (taken before the race but really, not a big difference)

But the nice thing is that between the race and talking to friends and talking to my therapist, I’m coming to learn that even though I’ve been alone for the last seven months, in one way I’m not as alone as I thought, and in another way, I’m okay with being alone. As I sat down to write this, Josh Groban’s “Home Again” came on my iPod and I realized how much I can relate to that song. I feel like I’m home, and it’s something I haven’t felt for quite a while. I don’t feel like I’ve really *found myself* quite yet, but I’m getting there. I feel better about who I am. That’s been work, but it’s getting easier, and I’m glad I did it.

Next race in October, at the Runner’s World 5K. I think I need to schedule more of these things. I spent half of Sunday afternoon giggling, “Did I really do that?” But I did, and I’m glad, and from now on I aim to participate more, not just be a bystander. Get off the practice field and get in the game.

Like this guy. Think he enjoyed himself?! 🙂