No kilt small glory

Last evening, prior to packing my bag and laying out racing togs for today’s DuPont 12k, I decided to stretch out for a few minutes of rest.  This morning at 6:15, I realized I had just slept for 11 hours.  Usually that means I am sick, but in this instance it must have been 10 days of anxiety — plus a nasty little spill on a training run yesterday afternoon.  The lack of preparation made this morning’s departure somewhat rough, including my forgetting the running shoes on the first attempt to leave.  While my Chacos drain fairly effectively, they are not ideal running shoes.  I turned around to fetch the goddesses of victory and was only 40 minutes behind schedule.

The upside to this being that my arrival at race site any earlier would have put me there ridunculously early.  As it was, I got there on the leading edge of right on time.  When I awoke, the air temperature was about 30, upon arriving at the race site it was pushing 40, and by race’s end it would be near 50, so wardrobe was clearly going to be an issue.  After getting lost in the woods during my warm-up, I decided to shed the thin fleece I had been wearing for a trusty old and plain long sleeve t-shirt.

Technical shirts with ballsy races emblazoned on them predominated at the start.  I have come to learn that the more impressive the gear, the less impressive the runner.  Why, for instance, would someone wear an Ironman finisher’s bike jersey on this run unless he wanted you to know he had finished an Ironman?  Is that supposed to keep you from passing his wheezing ass on the next climb?  I think not.

Nor does having a marathon finisher’s shirt allow you to race me to a corner and try to cut me off.  Nobody wants to be passed.  I understand this.  That just means you should friggin’ RUN FASTER, not obstruct me.  No amount of “Watch it Bro!” will keep me from allowing you to watch my lycra encased butt disappear up the hill.  Bro.

Kilts AND running tights are a bit much as a combination, so I chose to go just with the latter.  We shall save the kilt for another day.  Instead, I have a one hour flat time.  A nice little time.  Nice for this time of the year especially.  And a nice way to spend the morning out in the woods.