Didn’t See That Coming

More radio silence as I lick my wounds after a bad finish at the Rock n Roll Philadelphia Half Marathon on the 15th.  I chalked it up to lack of preparation and a few extra pounds I’m now dedicated to losing. My training schedule is taped to the wall beside me and I’m rearranging my life to make the time. I may have to learn to run in the dark. Not a great idea, especially on the one stretch of road I run, but hey, maybe it’ll make me run faster.

Anyway, my morning got shaken up by finding out I’d finaled in the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood’s annual Make It Golden contest. Entrants submit their first 50 words, and this morning the finalists were announced. No one was more shocked than I was that I finaled, *and* my entry was first on the list! I have no idea if that means something or not; maybe they list worst first.

The finalists then post the first 250 words of their potential Golden Heart entry. You can either go to their link to read mine:


Or you can read it right here:

“Why did I tell Eddie I’d go to his wedding?” I flipped through a rack of dresses that would only look good if I had the body of a life-sized Barbie doll. I didn’t.

“Because you got custody of his best man in the divorce.” Sandy perused the rack next to mine. The mall dress shop’s offerings didn’t seem to bother her as much, but for a forty-something, my best friend had the body of a young Cindy Crawford, while I had the body of an old circus elephant. Okay, not really. Maybe I felt the part more than I looked it.

“Oh. Right.” I sighed, rejecting another dress when all I’d seen of it was the shoulder. In my defense, no one looked good in that shade of green.

Damn Eddie. Not only did he walk out me, but now he was making me dress-shop for a wedding I damn well didn’t want to go to. I hated dress shopping. Nothing ever looked right on me. None of my parts were where they had been fifteen years before. It’s hard to feel sexy when your boobs point south.

I looked out the shop window at the people walking past, going about their lives already in progress. What I wouldn’t give to be any one of them. Some were prettier than I was, some were thinner, some were better dressed, probably most of them had more money, but I’d bet they were all happier.

It still needs some editing (can I say “the body” a few more times at the start of a story? I think not), but fingers crossed! I really didn’t see this happening because my entry last year was just so awesome, there was no topping it:

“Uh, Coach? Why is there a naked woman in our showers?”

Jonah Landis looked up from the latest team roster to find Tommy standing in the doorway, looking as confused as he was excited. Poor kid, the ball boy was just fifteen. At his age, naked women were still a novelty. “Is there, now.”

Yesterday I filed to get my last name back. I didn’t think I could top that. Well… 🙂


What Goes Around…

Race season seems to take a break during the summer. Understandably so. Last weekend I went out for a distance run at the park and ran out of steam halfway through. The humidity took something out of me and I just didn’t have enough gas left in the tank to keep running. It’s for that reason that I’m carefully watching the weather reports for Sunday’s Heroes’ Run. So far everything looks optimal.

I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve run three races with two friends, and those were fun, but this time is a little different. My friend Karen and I are going to be there, but she’s doing the 1 mile fun run and I’m doing the 5k, so we’re going to be each other’s cheering sections. At least, I hope we will; it occurs to me they might send off the 5k first, and then the fun run runners. My mental plan was that one race would run first, and the other would be waiting at the finish line. Now I’m starting to wonder if that’ll work out? Ughhhhh…

See, it occurred to me that so far this has been a rather lonely endeavor. Don’t get me wrong, I *love* races, and I’ll do them alone without blinking an eye, but most of the races I’ve been to, when it’s over, everyone else seems to go off with either their running partner or the people who were cheering them on from the sidelines. I haven’t had that experience yet. It was kind of lonely to finish the Broad Street Run, go through the finisher’s tent, grab some post-race refreshments and my bag, and go sit in the grass, recovering alone. So many other people ran, sweaty and exhausted, into the arms of someone they cared about (who apparently didn’t mind the sweat and stinkage), and then they walked off together, talking about what a great time they had. I’d like to have that happen.

I guess that’s why, in the current Work-In-Progress, the story ends with the heroine running into the hero’s arms. I hope some day that can be me, but for now, it gets to be her. 🙂

Anyway, racing season is back. I haven’t had a race since the Color Run in July, and now I have the 9/11 Heroes Run on Sunday; the Philly Rock ‘n Roll Half on the 15th, and the Variety Dash n’ Bash on the 28th. Then there’s the Runner’s World Half on 10/20, and once I get the registration in, the Alex’s Lemonade Lemon Run and the Vietnam Veteran’s Run at the Farm Park in November. Five more races to go this year. I look forward to each and every one. Well, okay, the RW Half scares me a little, but only because I’ve done those hills before, and I almost bonked. I still haven’t decided if I’ll bring the iPod to that one. My best runs seem to be “naked” (no GPS, no music), but thirteen point freaking one is a long time to have to keep mentally encouraging myself. Still, it worked when I ran 6 miles non-stop. But that was 6 miles, not 13.1. Big difference.

Heh. I loved the t-shirt I saw at Philadelphia Runner: “13.1: Because I’m only half crazy.” But the best one yet is the magnet on my bread maker:

running shoes