Boogity Boogity Boogity

Black bars for privacy but I am the one in the mom jeans
and muffin top head

Ahh race day. Up before the sun (The supermodel loves this as you can imagine) To go meet at the Dub Dub’s to pack into our tour van for our Sunday tour of ‘Dega. We were at the track by 7 am with no real hiccups and were all dressed and prepped for our half marathon. My literal days of training were about to be put to the test. Let me paint the picture for you. An empty NASCAR super speedway with grey overcast sky and 600 of my closest friends milling about in the garage row. To say that it is larger than it seems on TV is silly and trite but there I said it. HUGE I tell you but, we will get back to that. The usual pre-race jitters, lines for porta-potties, and milling about took place. A team photo was taken and we lined up to race.

     To be honest, I wasn’t terribly worried about this. I mean who can’t go run/walk for two or three hours? Most of you reading this could finish the distance. I knew I would finish. The question was time. My respectable time would have been to finish by say Tuesday and anything short of that would be acceptable. The others in my team as you can guess by the photo were a bit more ambitious. So I get my muffintops squoze in about halfway through the pack and take off after the race gun had been fired. I am guessing this is true. I never heard the gunshot which really is telling. I should never move to a war-torn country as I would be shot a lot.

     The race began with a half lap of the track then moving to the apron of the track. This is the portion outside of the crash fence bordering the track. So half on the track half on the apron we have done a lap. This gets us 3 miles. What the what!? This is a big eff’ing track. Luckly at Mile One the light of the lord shone down upon the track and placed a group called the Hash House Harriers at the water stop. I knew little of these people but they had replaced the water in the water cups with beer. One shot of beer down and I felt ready to go.

Thank you google image search

     My orthopedic shoes did their job beautifully and I didn’t even need sugar socks. (Although they are quite in mode and were everywhere) No shin splints to speak of on race day or even now. (I wish my knees were so lucky) I hoofed it around the course, touring the campsites around the stadium where in a few weeks the plumage of the NASCAR fans will be out in glorious color showing support for their drivers and hoping to procure mates of similar phenotype. We turned and ran back down the streets of natty to the tunnel leading to the grandstands. We then toured both the grandstands on the main straight of the track and then the back straight of this magnificent tri-oval. I jest mostly. I knew before the race standing in the inspection bay just how incredible it was to be granted this kind of access. I mean for God’s sake Mr. The King once stood here.

Jokes aside, pretty cool being where this guy once was

After touring the seating for the proletariat we re-entered the infield by way of a tunnel. This is around mile 9. I was feeling great. A tour of the infield where commenced where i witnessed the first person being put in an ambulance. Okay maybe everyone can't do this. Maybe I am one of those people. At mile 10/10.5 we return to the track to finish out the race. 1 lap. This is where the wheels came off. 

My siren

I won't lie. I was beat. Dr. Mr. passed me and gave me the appropriate man greeting during sporting events in which you need to step it up. That is to say he slapped me on my very sweaty ass as he ran by as a way of encouraging me not to be the next person in the Health and Safety Van. The only think keeping me going was knowing that I would pass the Hash House people again and get beer. This happened at mile eleven. I grabbed a beer on the way into the station and one on the way out just after being handed a chocolate moon pie. Now I know what you are thinking. "two shots of natty light and a moon pie aren't race appropriate." Guys I am an eater. Come by it honest. My dad is an eater. His dad and his dad before that. It was the most delicious moon pie ever.

Switch the toilet for a trash can on pit row
and the Clown for... well the clown is pretty close

I soon died. The mile between there and number 12 nearly killed me and 12 to 13 only happened because i knew the end was close and people would see me crying and cursing my hungry hippo nature. Needless to say the last 2 miles were not pretty. But, I did finish. 

I soon there after became nauseated and collapsed. I tried to eat some delicious looking bar-b-que but instead went outside to explore what was at the bottom of a trash can while evacuating the contents of my stomach. I never saw the moon pie come back up although I may have seen my shoes. 

It has taken me a few days to recuperate and I look back on this event fondly and would gladly do another. My teammates were awesome and we all had a great time. I hate that I was so dehydrated and sick afterwards but oh well. Also, this being my second one of these I can say I have a new personal best of 2:28 and shaved 30 minutes off my last time. I am speed!