Initially, I had no desire to actually train for this race solely based on the fact that I was in no physical shape what so ever to run the full 12k (7.46 miles) and because I have acute asthma. But I've managed to convince myself that this will be well-worth it. Yah know, setting goals then actually accomplishing them, that sort of deal. I started off running a few miles a day on the treadmill then decided to break free from the controlled stagnation and relocated the training outdoors, gradually making it to 7 miles. I didn't really have diet nor a work-out regimen for this race for the reason being that, I just knew I had to finish the race in under 3 hours and tended to listened to my body when I felt I couldn't continue any longer. My friends provided some well-needed motivation: early phone calls to go running replaced wake-up alarms and constant reminders to decline invitations to social gatherings that may involve alcohol were absolutely necessary to get through this B2B preparation. I tried to make this "training" something positive for myself in polarity to the culture of this festivity.
Sunday, bloody Sunday finally came. Six a.m. Em, BMac, Anna & I get up and get ready to go. I'm prepared with my orange tie-dye tank-top, royal blue spandex, mini fanny-pack, AM 95's & loaded with myself with 2 pills of fat-burners that fueled me with caffeine and firm conviction. Fitted and fly, we race to the BART station and begin our morning. We got off at Market and rushed through the crowds of people, making our way to our designated corral. Baffled and amazed, we take a few moments to stomach the lunacy of our 2 mile radius. I stand back and observe thousands of people dressed in a plethora of themes. Handfuls of pig costumes waving Mexican flags (poking fun at the Swine flu scare), colonies of naked men and women, drunken washed-out super heroes, vibrant fruit costumes, and Waldos are only but a small preview of the amazing costumes worn throughout the race.
So I'm off! I'm weaving in and out of the race, trying to get passed all the debauchery and manage to maintain a strong pace to the finish. I wasn't too concerned about my ending time considering the sites to behold along the way were just enough for me to enjoy the run. There was so much energy in the air. I decided this time, I wouldn't bring my ipod because I wanted the electricity from the crowds to inspire me. I had a crazy time making my way up to the finish line. At about Fillmore & Steiner is where my undeveloped endurance got the best of me. That hill was no joke. I felt like I was literally running in place. Despite that obstacle, I continued on. I ran passed a shit load of naked people, almost grazing all of those that I came in contact with, dodging tortilla throwers (those things hurt when they're thrown at full speed... hell of a slap, seriously), doing hurdles over a makeshift dam with branches these dudes in beaver costumes positioned in the middle of the freakin race (Damn, that dam!), tried to avoid the community of ass-grabbing smurfs and drag Smurfette and a crazy variety of other alter-egos. The race was nuts! I think one of the closest dangers I had during the race was when I nearly kicked a black pig that was set loose near mile 4. I seriously nearly saw myself falling face flat to the floor while being run over by the stampede behind me. The population of the race began to slim down as it progressed towards the end. As I made the last turn onto Great Hwy, I sighed in great lengths. I kept thinking to myself, "Am I still running?" because after awhile, my body became numb and functioned mechanically.
Once I saw Ocean beach bordering the race, I couldn't help but feel this overwhelming sense of elation stream through my body. The ocean's breeze couldn't have felt any sweeter. The finish line was only a short distance away.
And that was it.
I ran passed the finish line, jumping for joy! Awaiting us at the finish line were a myriad of volunteers spraying us with pain relievers and handing us bottled water. I finished the race at about 1:40 (10 minutes shy of the designated corral time, but god damit I had one hell of a run!) My friends and I reunite and do our celebratory dances and hugs, wiping off the work done from our foreheads.
We celebrated later by induging in unaccounted flows of alcohol & good food alongside good company. I'm somewhat trying to figure out if this Sunday was in fact atypical at all for a Sunday, or if it was just a day late from my usual Sunday morning experiences. I did, in fact wake up somewhat hungover this morning... and sore. Yea, pretty fucking sore.
I'm also contemplating about what to wear next year and if I'm going to participate running in the race at all. Lemme tell you, running passed block parties, Salmon conga lines, and beer bongs were quite the challenge to turn away from. We'll see!
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