Monday, December 9, 2013

On being one of "Those" people

I am not the kind of person who signs up for a race, then doesn't show up. First, I'm too cheap (races aren't free, yo). Second, I refuse to have/wear a shirt from a race in which I flaked out. Lastly, I'm not a slacker.

Now, my brother (we'll call him Bart), and I were signed up to run a 10-miler Trail race out at Bear Creek Lake State Park this past weekend. In case you hadn't noticed, it is winter-time and the weather can be a bit unpredictable. As luck would have it, the first real ice-event of the winter decided to roll in ON race day.

So, Friday comes around: the weather-guys are giddy because its looking like we will have some winter weather action on Saturday and Sunday. Bart calls, its obvious he's checking the weather, wondering if (hoping) he will have an excuse not to get smoked by his kid sister at a race (again). This is my suspicion, anyway.  Its actually a pretty solid hypothesis, given the way the past few races have gone, har, har, har.

Sunday morning... Yep, Bart is OUT. Says there is a sheet of ice out his from door. Hmmm....

Checking weather...looks FINE to me, just a little freezing rain, nothing to get all twitterpated about. I've got traction on my tires and long underwear on my butt, OK? What's the problem?

So, I'm still planning on heading out to have a little adventure of my own with the other "real" trail runners who will brave any (ANY!) elements in order to prove how tough we are......Drinking my strong black coffee (loaded with cream and sugar, what?), blaring Lady Gaga (you know I love my Pop music), and steering my hardy little VW Rabbit west through the freezing rain, feelin' HYPE! Gaga's song "Applause" is my JAM.

Phone starts ringing, why (WHY?!) do I answer it? Yep, that's my Mom. Says shes worried about me driving and running in this severe weather. Says she'll pay me not to drive out there. Says "its not worth it," "have you seen the sleet? it's SLEETING!" all the while my Dad is crackling in the back-ground, "here's addiction at its best, folks!" So, I may be mildly addicted to running, at least its not to Cinnabons or Porn. Oh, there's another text from Bart, asking me if I'm REALLY planning on driving out to run this blasted race. 

Thing is, I could tell my Mom was actually super worried and would continue to worry (and WORRY) about me getting stuck on the side of the road or falling and breaking my face on the trail somewhere. Ten years ago, I would have (halfway) listened to her input and done what I wanted to anyway. I sort of understood how much my own Mom worried about me, but I did a lot of really stupid things that she had specifically told me NOT to do, so obviously I didn't let it stop me very often. Fast-forward a decade, I'd like to think I'm a bit older and wiser. If there's one thing I've learned in these 30 years, its that my Mom is usually right. Its actually pretty infuriating how often she's right. I'd feel like a real dumbass if I DID wreck my car or I DID fall on my face and ruin my training completely, just because I was in the mood to be more bad ass than my brother.

So, that's how my wimpy (and very persistent) family talked me into being one of "those" people. Those "no-show," "hungover," "I've got the flu" types on race day. My run was relocated to the wild wilderness that is my neighborhood; I also now have a pretty cool race shirt that is of no use to me. It'll make a nice birthday present for my Mum; now SHE earned it.

I think I'll tell her the 35k is on a treadmill at the gym.