Now that I can see it...it does look familiar. I wish I could run that much. This person must be planning to win the Monkey or something.

I don't know, but it has changed now and isn't mine anymore. How would you know this - can you see my screen? Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?

Dragon’s Race Report. Seriously.

I wasn’t going to post one of these. I really wasn’t. But then I thought it might amuse Tanya for a couple of minutes, so here we go.

Back in April, I thought it would be fun to sign up with three other girls for the Nike Women’s Marathon. There would be free manicures! Free foot massages! Free chocolate! And best of all, Tiffany finisher medals given to us by firefighters in tuxedos! The date was far enough in the future that it seemed reasonable enough.

I remained blissfully unworried until a couple of weeks ago, when a nice, caring friend gently suggested that I had better get my ass in gear if I wanted to cross that finish in less than six hours and thirty minutes. He pointed out that Nike would not inconvenience the good people of San Francisco for the entire day. Based on my most recent half marathon time, he predicted that I would be coming in just under the deadline. If I missed it, the Nike paddy wagon, not a handsome young San Francisco firefighter, would be picking me up. I got a little concerned, but not enough to do anything crazy like, you know, run.

We had perfect weather for race day: 55 degrees, overcast, no wind. The first 4 hours or so were fun. It was like being in a big estrogen-charged parade. But by about mile 20, I was bored. We had already gone past the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz, and were plodding around the surprisingly un-scenic Lake Merced. People who had been singing Whitesnake lyrics loudly and off-key at Mile 6 were no longer interested in entertaining me. On closer inspection, some of them appeared to be crying.

I began to see the value in following a structured training schedule. Not that I would ever do that, but I bet it makes the end of the race more fun.

Looking back, my biggest regret is that I missed the mylar blanket handout table at the end of the race. It got kinda cold waiting around for the shuttle back to Union Square.

The End.

P.S. I'm so completely screwed for the Monkey.

Did you start with the elites?

You should be comforted in knowing that it's really no different near the back of the pack with Trent and JK at the Monkey.

Or so I hear.

I am seriously amused! Great report--packed with indifference, laconic attitude, and ambivalence. You've really outdone yourself, Dragon.

I know you're a little (very little) concerned about the Monkey, but I did notice this:



You should be comforted in knowing that it's really no different near the back of the pack with Trent and JK at the Monkey.

Or so I hear.