October 8, 2016 – Prep and Landing
What a screwup today has been… and at least two thirds of that being entirely my own fault.
A 6 am flight always SOUNDS like a great idea. After all, with an early departure I can just start my day and get to my destination. But the problem with such a plan is that there’s an infernal alarm clock buzz at 2:45 am. One has to get up and get to the airport ridiculously early for an early flight. So this morning’s groggy, monosyllabic self gazing back at me in the mirror is down to me and I own that.
I do not own the gas station rip off I am encountered while trying to fill up my rental car. The pumps were mislabeled and I did a double take before filling — the middle grade pump was showing the economy grade price. I went by price, assuming the pumps were wrong… turns out the prices were wrong and I got overcharged 10 cents a gallon. It’s less than fifty cents difference but honestly it just felt like I’d been royally cheated, a true victim of fraud.
Upon arriving at LAX, I flipped through my paperwork for this weekend’s race… only to discover I had forgotten to book a rental car out of Denver. Or if I did book it, I couldn’t find any record of it in my travel spreadsheet, within my email inbox, or under the “My Trips” tabs of my usual suspects travel websites. Plugging in the 36 hour timeframe I needed, Kayak was showing me a rental fee of close to $200. By sheer luck I found a discount code on Orbitz as a “preferred” traveler and got one for $130. Sixty-five bucks a day is highway robbery… but I guess “unusually high demand” as they say on their site, has lead to higher than normal prices. Market forces at work… and since I’m an ardent Adam Smith fan, I guess I can’t hate the “invisible hand” for the cards I’m dealt when I fail to plan ahead.
So here I sit, overcharged, exploited, and exhausted. And as I now flip through the event schedule for the next two days, I realize even at a PR pace, I’m not gong to make it back to the hotel before check out. Ergo, I’m not going to get a shower after the run.
Swell — it’s going to be one of those weekends.
***
I’m sitting in my Super 8 in Hill City, SD. If Murphy ever wants to rebrand, Kevin’s Law should be in the running.
After nearly a quarter of a century of driving, I got my first speeding ticket. It was on the back roads of Wyoming. I was doing 80 in a 70 according to the officer who pulled me over. I suspect he was giving me a break as I bet I was doing more than that. Why? Because it was a straight road and not a single car was in sight… save for the cop car behind me with the flashing lights. But as I was pulled to the side of the road, not a single car came from either direction. I had just gotten off the interstate where I saw for the first time ever a legit 80 mph speed limit sign. This wasn’t some joke sign, or if it was it was tantamount to that time that artist put up all those drapes in Central Park and called them Arches. The cop was perfectly professional and nice and I was polite and just shrugged me shoulders. I was speeding. No sense in denying it. Extenuating circumstances aside, like, oh, there was nobody around for miles and it was a pencil protractor drawn straight line road, it is what it is. He issued me a ticket and my biggest regret I think is not asking to take a selfie with him handing it to me to commemorate it. Felt like he might not take too kindly to that.
Who am I kidding? The biggest regret is that I’m now a convicted speeder the moment I pay my “bond” of $85 (he gave me a $10 discount because I was wearing my seatbelt). Trouble is, I just tried paying it online once I got to my hotel room and there’s no record of it… because it can take up to 14 business days to get to the court. My court appearance requirement if I don’t pay it? Two weeks from today… not 14 business days… 14 days. What a scam.
Having arrived in South Dakota, I picked up my bib and my $20 pasta dinner ticket. I don’t normally do the pasta dinners as I find them overpriced and kinda awkwardly runner centric (not surprising given, ya know, it IS a pasta dinner for a race). But I decided to do this one because it was being held at the Crazy Horse Memorial Mountain and we were told we could stay for the laser light show projected onto the mountain after dinner.
I get to the pasta dinner and ask when the light show is going to happen and I’m told the last show of the season was on September 30th. So no light show.
I feel deflated, defeated, discombobulated, and destroyed by this trip. Just the right mindset for a marathon tomorrow, right?
I did ask at the front desk about a late checkout. The best they could do was 12 noon. The race starts at 8. Fingers crossed my desire for a shower will be the best motivator to get a sub 4 and really a sub 3:30 for the day.
Pardon my language but in Kristen Bell parlance, I’m forked.