Today was actually going to be an all nicey-nicey warm and fuzzy post…cause I was going to talk about last night…our 5-year-the-day-we-met-in-person-a-versary.
Fuck that.
Guess what the hell happened to us this morning? Because, I mean, when does anything in our lives EVER GO AS PLANNED?
That’d be too easy.
So, what happened? Well…………
We’ve run in the same damn Turkey Trot the past three years…two of those with no issues…
This year?
We manage to fuck it all up and run the wrong direction, thus not *technically* running the requisite 3.1 miles.
Now, before you’re all, “you are so stupid…can’t even run a race the right way” - we weren’t the only one…it was a group of us not sure which direction to go, only knowing that the way we were headed was dead ass wrong. So, apparently, we were among a collective gaggle of idiots.
And instead of using our own brains, Tim and I played follow-the-leader like dumbasses when we should have broken from the pack and ran back to figure out where we went wrong.
If you’ve never run a race, well, this probably won’t make any sense to you but: WE WERE WE ARE PISSED.
Finishing a race that you didn’t exactly complete sucks big, fat unicorn balls.
Finishing a race where you had a shot at WINNING in your respective age group? Well, we still aren’t able to talk about that without wanting to destroy something very large and very fucking expensive.
After we ran through the finishers area, I decided to turn around and run back down the trail to figure out where we went wrong…because it would drive me crazy NOT. FINISHING.
I found it.
A sharp ass, 90 degree right turn that wasn’t clearly marked. Next year, they need to put up a massive, talking sign or stick someone at the turn wearing a sandwich board. Either way, the message needs to be clearly stated: “THIS WAY. FUCKTARDS”
Then…maybe we’ll pay attention…because after slumming through dirt and mud and dodging trees and random, rubber ducks tied to low-hanging branches (aka “duck” ….)? You just want to run…without thinking. You don’t want to have to be all McGuyver-like, looking for the path to lead us to the promised land.
As I was walking back to the trail, Tim (who sat at the finishers area and watched, fuming over our mistake) overheard a lady who just finished, talking about me and pointing as I walked by all, “SHE’S ONE THAT WENT STRAIGHT!!! CHEATER FACE.”
I wanted to whip around and be all, “I’m going back to find where I went wrong and I didn’t even put my name and my time in as a finisher, asshole. So technically, I don’t even EXIST. Which probably means you should sleep with one eye open.”
It has not been a pleasant post-Turkey Trot morning in the Bold household.
I told Tim that one day we’d laugh about this.
He didn’t think that was very funny.
The good news? We’re about to stuff our faces with lots of food…yay Thanksgiving # 1!
I did have Tim take a picture, though. This is me, post-race.
I'm only smiling because there's a camera. And I'm about to fart. You're welcome.
And my dirty feet.
I swear. It's mud. I think?
