SEATTLE MARATHON 10K
When I run through Gas Works Park in Seattle, I feel like I'm a child admiring a world untainted, set in 1957. There are couplings having picnic, kites, birds, rolling green hills, Lake Union, remnants of coal gasification plant scattered, set against the 50's sounding, Wallingford neighborhood. It doesn't seem like anyone is concerned with anything but the moment.
Ber, as previously mentioned, encouraged my racing the Seattle Marathon 10k. I think, because she's a great friend, and she saw an opportunity where, perhaps, I could pr, win $, and represent BDP. I operate really well under the guise of, "Hey, you should do this." Pre-race plans were to 1) not work a bar shift 2) maybe eat pizza 3) try really hard not to drink wine 4) read with my feet up 5) get more sleep & 6) drive myself and a hatchback full of clothes to seattle at 4:30 am.
I went to watch the Seahawks at a gf's house the night before, got to feel the small kick of my friend's third girl within. Fell asleep reading The Corrections by Franzen, a gift from Chard, with a small pocket of anxiety that I wouldn't wake up in time. Happily, I did, with toast & pb & coffee. Put on my spandex and made the drive in the dark through blooms of fog. It was a sing-to-radio morning. Checked in at Gas Works and curled into the front seat of my car to read. During the reading I couldn't take a deep breath & realized my nerves about the race; a feeling I hadn't had in a while (new territory?). Something about the speed work needed to accomplish the goal left me anxious. In the warmup, the feeling dispelled. I like the Burke-Gilman trail, and a flat 10k was a lot more manageable in my mind than a multi-elevated one. Upon entering the start I saw Bennett, a fellow wwu xc & t&f alum I love to bump into because he's magnetic. Our intentions were the same. The race director, a cute woman with thick black circle eye frames walked to the start identifying her choice of female winner & posing the question, "I've got my money on this girl. Who's going to take her?" It was quiet. I bent down to stretch and a manboy stepped in front of me so his butt was in my face. I, hormonal, wondered how he hadn't processed the ass to face ratio, and why it was we were being pitted against one another (regardless, in all fun), my hormones and passion to feel successful in what I was about to do, because of the all the work I had done to get there, left me a little sassy.
Once the race began, I developed a race strategy, which I then quickly tossed aside. The first strategy was to keep myself in check for half the race, because the most important factor was obtaining a top 5 finish for monetary value, not about the time, which wouldn't or shouldn't be a true indicator of ability for that distance in the center of Chicago training. Within a minute or two I just went for it. Went the pace that felt natural, felt great, wondered if I could maintain, decided to think about that later. Based on cheers&jeers I felt I had a small distance from second place. There was a good hill in the middle that I let up on. It wasn't until mile 5 with a hairpin turn that I could see where everyone was in relation to one another. What I wanted was to let up, have a little more fun and work a little less, but I saw that I had not created this great margin, and that if I wanted this bad enough, I needed to maintain speed if not pick it up more, because who can compare hunger a mile out from the finish? Passed the 6-mile, and entered into Gas Works to the finish for first. After, I felt weird, like, What Just Happened? I think I enjoy the 10k distance, the pace is a little more manageable to find than that of the 5k, 1/2 or full. I filled a goody bag with emergenC & Dove soap? Walked down to the water amidst swarms of geese and felt more than anything like diving in. Weird garbage & poop & my new found dinosaur grandma sense of responsibility kept me from indulging. Weirdly, I just wanted to be very alone. Quiet and chilled. I felt thankful.
I read on a hill mound facing the space needle before awards. Left for eastlake to meet with Mck & LB for coffee and pastries at Le Fournil. Ordered one of my favorite pairings of all time (still cream about thinking of the original pairing at Alfalfa's in Boulder) - an almond croissant with foamy latte. The three of us exchanged a lot of details and stories, gifts, European converter charger for LB's upcoming Grecian vacation. In an flurry of hugs and well-wishes we departed, all of our lives so full. I sold clothes to a shop in University Village, and headed North for the Morrison's Weenie Roast.
WEENIE ROAST
I was afraid I'd be a little lifeless, having been up since 4 am. This turned out to be true. Though, there were a few of us, Maria having just won & set the course record for the Cutthroat Classic on the Pacific Crest Trail in the North Cascades, Alyson doing a 30mi bikeride, to and from watching her husband's band play 90's covers, and Ber, having accomplished a workout within 18 miles. I had a backup plan of letting loose at Dave Matthews. Hovered the snack table. Ate a lot of fresh fruit, wieners, chips and beans. Managed a few IPA's, but was never able to just give in to feeling great. There was cornhole & a bonfire. Running gossip. Bacon and swiss wrapped prawns. S. Morrison's homemade refabbed beer cooler. The annual burning of the something that has or will be taken down. We all got a little sleep before Hair of the Dog Party, Weenie Roast Part Deux the next day. Miles run. Kegs to finish. And like 16 shirts, headbands & skirts to tie-dye for DM labor day weekend.
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