Andrea beat me by 22(ish?) minutes in yesterday’s 5K … first because, well, I’m slow, but also because someone donated a racing chair to her, so our fellow #rrnutz tribe member Tom was able to push her while he ran. Those things are not cheap. And when her wrist fully heals, she’ll be able to start training with it.
Incidentally … a picture of the tribe at the start line will be posted to IG later today. I will post the link either today or tomorrow morning.
Brier Creek Cupcake 5K update …
I have no idea what my time was.
When I crossed the finish line this morning, the clock (which lists the “gun time” – the time elapsed since the starter pistol was fired) said 58:17. (The gun time is not necessarily your time, depending on how far back you started.)
My official results say my time was 59:54.
It’s possible, since I lined up with the wheelchair runners (one in particular) in the front of the crowd, I may have accidentally stepped across the start line before the gun and started my timing chip 90 seconds early. But no one I’ve asked today has ever heard of that happening.
OT: I’m not sure how I’m going to feel about wearing the t-shirt from this race tomorrow. The logo is supposed to be a cupcake. It looks like the “I’m in severe gastrointestinal distress” version of the poop emoji.
“I bought this pen exactly one hour before my bike was stolen. Why? What’s the significance? I DON’T KNOW!” – Pee Wee Herman
To everyone with the song stuck in your head, let me help:
A friend of mine who lost half her mobility when she was hit by a car over the summer has found the same thing. I have to reassure her that I really am asking how she’s doing.
What, exactly, did you hope to accomplish with this level of sarcasm?
My better half is fond of saying, “When someone asks you how you are, it’s not a real question, so they aren’t interested in the real answer.”
To be fair to her, I was like seven or eight years old at the time and still believed in Santa.
The most awkward moment of my elementary-school librarian’s life: when I, a fan of Judy Blume, wanted to read that book. I don’t remember exactly how she succeeded in dissuading me, but I do clearly remember the sheer horror on her face when I brought it to her desk to check it out of the library.