It’s a Mountain Junkies race weekend, so of course the weather is obnoxious cold. I mean was. It’s beautiful and sunny and warm now. Post-race. Whatever.
Since my Blue Ridge Marathon Double training is going so well, I opted for the shorter race distance today to reduce my odds of injuring myself on the trails. No idea what those odds are because math, but I’m pretty sure the formula goes something like
Sunshine + Length of time on trail x Amount of coffee intake / Temperature = Risk of Fall
That looks fancy.
And like it might actually be a valid formula.
Thinking I should probably put mathematician on my resume.
Anyway, running the shorter distance meant that I got to stand around and watch the 10 Milers take off.
And since Kim respectfully declined Josh’s request to get them started using the starter pistol, I got to do it. I mean, I don’t know why he’d pick her before me. I’m WAY more emotionally balanced and responsible than she is. But whatevs. She had sense enough to know she shouldn’t be wielding a weapon pre-race.
It was awesome.
I need a starter pistol.
Plus, I’m throwing that new skill on my resume.
It’s possible that the power rush I received from the pistol was a little more than I was prepared to handle because I went out way too fast.
I mean, part of it was because Kim and Courtney and I figured we could sidle ourselves right up at the starting line and run with the big dogs. So when the stampede of significantly faster runners started overtaking us, my terror of being trampled mixed with my desperate pride led me to just go all in.
And when I go all in, it’s possible that I trip over … well, nothing, really. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t an actual rock or root or chupacabra that impeded my path, but I went down nonetheless.
Danny thought enough to ask if I was good as he hopped over my crumpled body and proceeded on down the trail. I appreciate that.
Good, I mean.
Seriously, though, that is what I love about my trail runners. You go down, they don’t make a fuss. Hell, you’re lucky if they slow down to ask if you’re ok. And most will try to help you up if you’ve got a bone facing the wrong direction or the blood starts pooling quickly. But mostly, they just let you fall, get a little hurt, and expect you to get your ass back up and keep going.
Which is exactly how it should be.
Which is exactly what I want my Heart & Sole girls to know. And I feel like most of them do. My girls are pretty hard core. And it’s an awesome thing to see.
(This is where I ask you to donate or volunteer. The celebration 5k’s are coming up for both Roanoke Valley and Central Virginia Girls on the Run/Heart & Sole teams. Just click on a red word and it will take you to that page. That’s why the words are red. They’re linked to stuff. Technology.)
Plus, I got on the podium anyway. (Because I could see freakin Karen behind me on the switchbacks and she always ALWAYS passes me in every freakin race and I was NOT about to let that happen today. I shot the starter pistol, dammit. That should mean something! She’s not even in my age group!!)
Photo Credit: Me in my car admiring my dirt & medal and Jazzy Jazz Jasmine Herritt who captured my really elegant and natural podium pose.
And here is where I will shout out the amazing race directors and volunteers of my Mountain Junkies races. These are the races you should be running. The people. The food. The PUMPKIN BREAD. The trails. All of it phenomenal. And they’re sure to make you run in crap weather, increasing your badass quotient a bit.
Badass quotient. Damn. I should have worked that into my formula somehow. I would, but I’m not really sure what a quotient is. That word actually hurts my head. I’m out.