Yeah. I know. But if I don’t write SOMETHING about it, it will bother me.

I’ve been going through THINGS, and I really couldn’t bring myself to write much about this or my last race of the year, Bass Pro in Missouri. I’ll get to that one, although I REALLY can’t write a full report because of some issues that came up during the trip.

BUT. It’s a new year. And I’m starting to feel hopeful about all the things that are giving me the vapors and less likely to stick my head in an oven (This is spectacularly funny to me because one of the things that has sent me down this pit of despair is the fact that we actually have no appliances aside from a fridge and a microwave because kitchen remodels apparently take 45 times the length of time my husband tells me they will take.).

Also, we got a new cat.

Hi, Lola. Lola poops her pants a lot, because we did a nice thing and we rescued her from the brink of death at a shelter, so of course we would be punished with that. But, that’s not really relevant to racing, and certainly not relevant to Hershey chocolate in any way (Sorry, Hershey, if this is not going the way you’d like it to go. If you send me free chocolate for myself and readers, I could maybe edit the post, because I accept bribes like that and I have no moral compass.). Maybe I’ll make a separate post about cat poop and maybe the makers of some miracle cat poop drug will send me samples also. This blog is going to have to start working for us somehow, right?

I really do wish that the above wasn’t a fact. Well. To be fair, she did only poop the bed once, and the other times were at least in the vague vicinity of the litterbox or actually inside it. She did step in her own poop once, which my husband found to be hilariously just, until, of course, he realized that by doing that, she just tracked magic cat poop all over the house and onto his side of the bed*.

But, again, I’m sure that is not why you are here?

They are. They are mostly here because of Butters, The Ridiculously Photogenic Cat.

Here’s the deal. We went to this race, after this race, we flew out to NYC for work, and then we came home for one hot minute before leaving for VA. Also, a few weeks before this, I MIIIIIIGHT have broken my toe. Maybe. SO. There was that, and because I’m a pretty smart lady, I did not go to the doctor, because who even needs a toe?**

So, first, I ran in and picked up my bib and whatnot. They give you your crap in a really nice bag. I still have mine from last year. I guess a lot of races are doing that now, so it’s not a huge deal, but I HAVE A LOT OF THINGS, SO I NEED A LOT OF BAGS, LEAVE ME ALONE ABOUT IT.

I forced Frank to purchase me these Bean Bands, which are the same as every other no-slip band out there. Awesome. I kind of forget why I forced Frank to buy these for me. There was a reason. Like, I pouted once because we were at another race EXPO and he was all rushing my jibe, so when I found these, he had to purchase them as punishment? I wasn’t really sold on that story until I started typing it, and that sounds like something I would do, so I’m going to claim it’s the facts.

I was also thrilled that our hotel had the most adorable Keurig ever.

If anyone knows where I can get that for my Grandma, let me know because that bag loves her some coffee, but she ain’t got no time to be making it, and my mother must hate her, because my mother won’t buy a coffee pot like a normal human being. THIS IS WHY I NEVER DRANK COFFEE UNTIL I LIVED IN PENNSYLVANIA. THIS IS WHY.

So, after picking up our packets and whatnot, I insisted upon touring the Hershey World or whatever the hell it’s called. We actually went to the park and rode rides and whatnot the year before, but again. Toe (AndPlusAlsoIDon’tLikeBigScaryRidesSoThisWorkedToMyAdvantage). Frank obliged, mostly, because that’s what Frank is very, very good at in this marriage. He obliges without complaint, and that is solely why I married him.***

Frank did not want to take the tour, because he hates fun. But I did make him take me on the ride, and he loved it so much.****

Here are our photos from the tour. They are great. You will love them.

So, here we go. Here is a happy cow that I believe is going to tell us how chocolate is made, maybe.

Great. Here are some of her buddies, and then their asses (You know, I just think that Hershey should have thought more about that, because Hershey Kisses already maybe look like little cow patties or the like, and showing cow butts probably just is NOT in their best interest. So, call me, Hershey.)(Also, P.S., sorry we’re talking about poop again.).

Ok, well. So far it’s cute, but I really wanted to be educated on the making of chocolate. So. Then there’s this. Thing. And this. Stuff. And together. They. Make. Other stuff. I don’t know. Frank tried to explain it when we were going through, and I did want to know, but then I sort of was still thinking about the cow butts, and I really didn’t learn ANYTHING, which is sort of to be expected.

You are welcome for the spectacular photos. I realize you are probably not used to sparkling, clear photography like that, so. Take a moment to soak it in.

I sort of want to discuss this, also, Hershey. Actually, this post is just for Hershey, so anyone not affiliated can close out the ole browser. Or tab. Or. Shut off the tablet. Whatever you kids are doing.

What is this, Hershey? Because it looks maybe like a brain? During surgery? And, I’ve seen enough of Grey’s Anatomy to know that brain surgery normally doesn’t happen in a candy factory. Unless this is a total twofer (SPELLCHECK RECOGNIZES TWOFER GUYS) and we skipped on through the candy and into the nearby Hershey General Hospital, where we will now learn how to put in a brain stint.*****

And then, back to cows. Which, by the way, are we still getting milk from cows? Isn’t it 2014? Shouldn’t we have invented milk by now? So the cows can relax? Unless then, they’d be out of jobs. I don’t really know any cows. The last one I saw was in Proctor, WV, and there are a lot of things in Proctor, WV that are terrifying, so I really didn’t stop to ask this cow his career ambitions. Anyway And this. Cookie? Thing?

And then we were done and this cow was all “get out.”

We then procured dessert items, because that was relevant to our interests.

Mine was the cheesecake one (because cheesecake), and Frank’s is the chocolate on top of chocolate and chocolate one, because fuck you, he’s Frank, that’s why.

We then went to Fenicci’s, which is no joke, and I was very pleased with the food offerings that went into my belly, thank you.

We then made our way back to the hotel (If I do this race again next year—and it’s on the short list of repeat races for me—we need to stay at the same hotel—it rocks.). On the way I took this picture, because I have a friend named Jacqui, and people like to see their names on signs.

So, anyway. We got back to the hotel, and we got bad news about a family friend, and it was a thing, and I had to force Frank to call his brother to make sure he was ok (because Frank NOR his brother are normal human beings who show emotion towards each other), and did Frank need to go home and I would go on to NY by myself? He did not and the trip went as planned, but that was a bit of scary news for our evening.

We woke up and he deposited me at the race. We were early, and the port-a-potty situation was SO much better than last year. Actually, I just read last year’s race report (which was also disgustingly late), and this is what I had to say about it, but if it were this year, I’d have said a lot more, because it’s been over a year since the 2012 race, and I still can’t DEAL with the situation in those bathrooms that day: “Frank walked me to the bathrooms where I stood in a depressingly long line and peed in a depressingly dirty bathroom inside the stadium.”

Awfully lippy for a lady who pooped her pants 18 inches from her bathroom at 4am this morning, aren’t you?

The race started without much ado, and I immediately regretted wearing sleeves. Again.

I have said it before, and I will say it again. This race is not easy. It’s not a PR course. It’s not even that interesting aside from the park, but I just LOVE running through the park, looking through, and everyone’s all HEY THERE! and the rides are on with the music.

It’s a fun time. I think it’s the most “fun” race I have done. There are easy races, and races on pretty courses. This one is just fun. You know you probably won’t PR, because of all the loops and turns and whatnot. It’s just FUN.

I mean. I don’t really LOOK like I’m having fun. And I probably didn’t think I was having fun at the time. But, it’s been two and a half months since I ran this bitch, so we’ll pretend like I was having fun?

Man, I am a gloriously talented runner. I move about the course like a swan.

The first four miles are pretty good, and that’s where the “running thorugh the park” bit happens, so that’s to be expected.

Mile 1: 9:07
Mile 2: 8:52
Mile 3: 8:55
Mile 4: 9:11

And here’s where it starts to be not-so-fun, and then you remember you’re running 13.1 miles here, not, like 4.1, and the rest of the course is, you know. Dairy farms (hence, the cows).

I think around this part is where I started to really TRY to muscle through and hang onto a 9:10 pace (sub-2), but, clearly, it was not going to happen, and I was a fool for even thinking it would.

Mile 5: 9:30
Mile 6: 9:47
Mile 7: 9:41
Mile 8: 10:00

And with mile 8 being 10:00, I was mentally done with it. There is a fantastically hard stretch around this part, where there’s an out-and back lollipop loop. It’s a slow steady climb. Nothing extremely difficult by any stretch, but it’s just. The scenery is blah. You can see the people finished coming at you. Then, when you are done and doing down the lollipop handle, you see the people coming up the hill, and you feel really REALLY bad for those sorry fools.

I love when races get consecutive photos of me. I like to print them out and make a flipbook of my rippling white thighs. My face on that last photo really paints the full picture, I think, but I stand by that outfit. It might have been the fiercest outfit of the season. I got a lotta “I like yer skirt”s.

So, anyway, by the time mile 9 came around, I was just about done. I have these dreams of a half marathon in which I do not stop for water. I don’t stop for water when I do training runs. I do not know why I can’t handle this concept. But. I can’t.

Mile 9: 10:52
Mile 10: 10:05
Mile 11: 10:03
Mile 12: 10:08

Yeah, by the looks of that hot garbage, I just didn’t care, and I wanted a burger.

Almost.

So, I managed to run it in behind this amazingly smug fellow:

Meanwhile, I look like a 90-year-old creeper back there. Also, lady on the right, go eff yourself for looking that good, ok? Thanks.

Mile 13: 9:42
13.1: 8:42

I really waited until the end to show up for this race, apparently.

Here’s what the Garmin stats look like:

I did a compare in my Garmin data, just to see if I tanked it spectacularly then as I did now, and the answer is yes, so I’m nothing if not consistent:

And, you know, I improved. I also either cheated this year or I got better at running the tangents. We’ll say I got better at running the tangents, since I don’t really remember cheating. Not saying it isn’t possible, because again, no moral compass.

The medal (which I am wildly unhappy with, because come on. CHOCOLATE. Twizzlers don’t count as Hershey candy for the love of Pete.):

He looks like Gumby’s weird prevy cousin, Twizzler.

I really, really should have checked to see what size I got in 2012. But, when I sign up for races, I sort of do it real fast before I can talk myself out of it, and the size I get is wholly dependent on how fat I am that day. Musta felt fat, because that shirt. It is too big.

So. That’s the race report. It’s not really great. Sorry, I’m not sorry. My new year’s resolution is to write more timely race reports? That could be a lie. It’s only not a lie if it happens. I’ll get back to you.

Frank and I went and ate at Fuddruckers, and, I’ll just say they are very, very good burgers, not the world’s best or whatnot, so. You know. Fuddruckers. Let’s get a hold on our self esteem, ok?

Frank and I then went directly to the airport and flew to NYC. I worked. I ran. We ate a lot. It was a good time.

Next race report I owe you: Bass Pro Half Marathon, Missouri. It’s gonna suck equally bad.

_______________________________

*I don’t think that actually happened, but I can’t be sure, because again, kitchen remodel. I really don’t know what’s going on in my own house, and I fully expect to find dead animals and cat food cans piled up behind the bed in the spare room. It’s full on Grey Gardens in our house right now, and I’m about three days from losing my hair and starting a career in soft shoe dance.

**I do. I need a toe. And in fact, my foot still hurts and will make a weird twinge-y feeling if I step wrong, and this was like 4 months ago. But, I am remaining strong in my neglect, and I still have not seen a doctor nor do I plan on doing so.

***That’s not true. He also cooks.

****He didn’t.

*****I think that’s a thing. Again. From Grey’s Anatomy. I’m fairly certain I should be able to perform at least an appendectomy by now.

Very nice looking new kitty.  Hope she gets over her pooping problem soon!  Does Purina make a 'Depends'" thing for kitties?

Congrats on your half!  And to your husband for all his patience!

Those photos of you on the road are not bad at all.   And they do show off your very Great Legs quite nicely.

I cannot stop laughing....

+2.  Cool shirt, even if it is too big hopefully it makes up for the awful medal featuring Mr. Hankey's cousin.

 

+2.  Cool shirt, even if it is too big hopefully it makes up for the awful medal featuring Mr. Hankey's cousin.

LOL...

I love how your ran faster this year and burned fewer calories.  Proof that you did cheat.

Your the best.

Your a time traveller? What's it like in 3013?

Also funny RR as usual!

Your a time traveller? What's it like in 3013?

 

Also funny RR as usual!

I figure if I predate it, then it's not late?

It was worth the wait.  Thanks for another highly entertaining race report.  And I "love yer skirt" too.