For the last three years as I've tranformed from a couch potato to a recreational runner (not to be confused with a "real" runner; I still don't consider myself that), I've run the Deseret News 10K on July 24. This race is a good time because it's mostly downhill and runs right along the parade route.
My first year, 6.2 miles was the farthest I'd ever run. It was so blasted hot, and at the last water station they RAN OUT OF WATER. The person right in front of me got water, and I didn't. I. Was. Dying. But I made it. Afterwards I could hardly walk for a week.
The second year was better - I knew more of what to expect, got water, and improved my time. The only hiccup? Catching the shuttles afterwards back to the starting line! There were three lines for shuttles, and the buses never stopped in my line. I thought there was going to be an all-out riot by our line every time a bus passed us. Eventually we got on a shuttle, shared with 50 other sweaty people, and got to our car. But have you ever tried to turn left onto Foothill Drive while a marathon is going on? I swear it took us almost as long to go home from the race than it did to run it.
This year I've finally figured out the race. I got a ride to the start line and had my cute dad pick me up at the end, thus avoiding the smelly shuttles. I also got the best time I've ever gotten, beating my last year's time by about 5 minutes!
I'm a VERY competitive person, but I try to keep it under wraps most of the time. When people pass me, I have to remind myself that I need to stick to my pace and not try to pass them back. Like when the SPEED WALKER passed me. Yep, that was demoralizing. So with about a mile to go, a woman dressed as a clown passes me up. I catch up to her, she passes me - I can never quite pass her. On the final stretch, I see her up ahead of me and I distinctly thought to myself, "You're going down, clown!" I didn't think I had anything left in me, but somehow I picked up the pace and left her in my dust. Yes, folks, I beat the clown. On this Pioneer Day, I thank you, Madame Clown, for giving me the adrenaline I needed to finish the race on a high. 
4 comments:
Hmmm . . . I didn't know you were so competitive; but good job turning on the burners to beat the clown.
Did you see? She was a pioneer clown. The polka-dot onesie, the clown afro, and, yes, a pioneer bonnet. Thank goodness. - Brooke
Yeah...you have to beat the clowns! Was she wearing the funny shoes?
Unfortunately, no - regular running shoes. Certainly not like the pioneer clowns of old.
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