Sometimes life is messy.
Actually with me life is (almost) always messy.
Earlier this week, on a whim, I decided to add a marathon for this weekend. It’s really Global Running Day’s fault. And my own obsessive compulsive disorder which had me trying to add a few more races so that I can make Pikes Peak my 400th marathon. And also my own stupidity.
I’m feeling mutton-top heavy. And just heavy in general. Both in biological and emotional senses. And so I thought maybe a tune-up marathon, one that wasn’t about time per se but was about the experience, might help reset me for this month’s final “Road To…” marathon… more on that race later.
So it was when I happened to see a note about the New River Marathon, a race promising spectacular views along the river and amongst the Blue Mountains of North Carolina, views that rivaled the highly praised Big Sur Marathon. I should note I was a bit underwhelmed by Big Sur but it was a weekend fraught with problems and miscommunications, both at the race and with my then charming girlfriend (who remains charming but our what was then a blossoming relationship has long since wilted and thus she is my ex-girlfriend).
But I digress in a morass of messy mixed messages… hence further clear cut evidence that with my life is (almost) always messy.
The added bonus of the location was that I could stop by and see one of my oldest friends who lives in Charlotte, NC. We traded texts and he said he should be around… though when I sent an ETA for post-race arrival he’s gone all radio-silent. Hmmm… guess I’ll find out tomorrow at 2 PM if he’s home or not.
But that’s all AFTER the race. And today was all about the 9.5 hour drive up to the race… which turned into 10.5+ hours due to traffic and various whatzits.
Driving along the rolling hills to get to the packet pickup, I realized the course itself would involve a lot of the roads I found myself going up and down and all around. Double checking the marathonguide.com reviews, I vaguely recalled this warning from a past participant.
This isn’t a race you just decide to do at the last minute, eh? Clearly this person underestimates my stupidity! Nobody should ever underestimate my stupidity! If I could remember my BC Calc, I’d really be able to wax poetic on how my stupidity is a limit that approaches infinity, or maybe it’s a divergent series, or, well, hell — I don’t know. It’s a null set? Or maybe it’s just that the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides. Or how about “What did the acorn say to its mother when it grew up? Geometry!”
So anyway, I’m here in North Carolina, not too far from Boone, and I’m picking up my bib in this field:
I haven’t bothered to look at the course map or check the elevation — what difference does it make now? I hear it’s not about preparation, it’s all about attitude. That’s how you meet with a morally suspect dictator if you’re a… well… morally suspect wannabe dictator. So I’m just gonna wing it. That should totally work our just fine.
I’m spending the night in an AirBNB about fifteen minutes from the aforementioned field, and it’s… well… it’s messy. The host wasn’t available as I arrived smack dab in the middle of my texted ETA of 6-7 PM. Her son let me in but one of their dogs, a new puppy, was super excited to have another person in the house and she, well, she scratched the bejesus out of me. Is bejesus sacrilege? I don’t know and I don’t care because frankly in my head I was screaming bloody murder only instead of “bloody” in the literal “blood spatter on the walls” it was the British slang “bloody” and replaced the British slang with American slang as god’s son’s middle name, a term that back in the day was one of the seven words we weren’t allowed to say on television. That’s probably way more detail and way too wordy but do the math people and you can figure out what I was saying in my head.
But aloud I just told the hosts it was okay and tried not to make it a big deal. I did ask for neosporin but unfortunately the hostess, who showed up a bit later having emerged from her bubble bath (!!), is allergic and thus doesn’t have any.
Where am I? What am I doing here?
For future reference: this is the puppy who draws blood:
And this is Roxie. Roxie is adorable and is “done” with the puppy. She tried to make me feel better.
Hashtag: TeamRoxie.