Dear Sweet Baby Jesus of Running…

13 Nov

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This Sunday will cross off half marathon number five for me. I remember anticipating number one and thinking how exciting yet how possibly impossible it could be.  Now, not only do I know how possible it is, I want more. Each one has taught me something about myself. The last one I did in New Jersey on my own. No one waiting at the finish line, no one sharing my post race meal. No one sharing the hot tub afterwards (damn the person who thought it was funny to put soap in it!!!) The finish time wasn’t what I wanted, and I was so disappointed in having back pedaled pace wise. It was a big emotional hit for me and to this day I can’t figure out why it mattered so much then. After several months, I realize what this taught me. It taught me that I can finish anything on my own. While it’s nice to have a cheering section, I now know I don’t need one to finish. It was really inside me the whole freaking time. I also learned that like everything else in life, not every race can be a great one. No one needs to understand my running or be happy about it. It completes me and no one else.  It’s an amazing thing to know that you inspired people. It’s also nice to have someone be nice enough to ask how your run was. I know that going into Sunday, there is so much to be thankful for and also so much to strive for. So here I go with my pre-race prayer, the way only I can do it.

Dear Sweet Baby Jesus,

Firstly, let me pre-thank you for those awesome first responders that will hopefully be making the big fat dough to get up at the ass crack of dawn keep us safe and pick us up if we fall on our face. I love thanking them as I go, but seriously, they need a bonus to put up with all of the whiney commuters and possible injured runners.  We’re a pain in the ass.

Thanks for the volunteers who hand us cups of Gatorade and water and those f@cking awful Gu’s to keep our energy up. Seriously, I had one volunteer hand me a salted apple something or other while doing jumping jacks in Jersey.  I didn’t know whether to thank her for the gross gel or throat punch her for the nonstop jumping. I don’t ever use them. I stick a bag of Haribo gummy bears (my favorite) in my bra and eat those while I run and that’s all I need.  I especially love the volunteers that hand you your medal while your dry heaving at the finish line. Oh, and while we are here…I’m thankful there are no pictures of me dry heaving at the finish line.

I am thankful for all of the other runners and I pray for a safe finish, free from chafing and injury.  Do you want to know what makes someone a real runner? Not only do they run, but they are humble and supportive. I chased a guy in a hot pink shirt once for the whole race. In the end we wound up chatting and making our way towards the finish together. That dude didn’t in the least bit get pissed when my coach came swooping in to speed me to the finish line. In fact, he cheered! In New Jersey, after the race, a nice lady came up and hugged me and told me she was pacing me the whole time. That’s a runner…they come in all shapes and sizes but they are super supportive. (Did I mention humble?) Now, I never said they weren’t competitive. I have learned that running is mostly about competing with yourself. I’m hoping to beat the pants off of myself (while keeping them on of course!)

Now for some wish-like prayers:

A no chafing day. May the Butt Butter or Trail Toes do its job. Running with junk in your trunk needs a little extra attention. I don’t need to be running like someone stuck a pole up my ass. That’s almost worse than a dry heaving picture.

Speaking of pictures, may I not look like I’m dying or have an extra boob or a muffin top in my pictures? (Maybe I should run in backwards… just for fun!) Let’s keep my girls perky while making me look bad ass. I know…I’m asking for a miracle!

For the port-a-johns to maybe have some toilet paper…maybe.  I mean, I may have wipes hidden in my bra too, but for Jake’s sake, I am running out of room in there. How about sinks with water or extra antibacterial? How about I just wish I don’t even have to use them. And let’s also keep everyone “accident” free if you get my drift.  (wink, wink)

Oh and toe nails. My running shoes are two sizes bigger than my actual shoe size. I really like my feet and my toes. I want to keep my toe nails. I already lost one last year,so I’m initiated. Let that be good. Fair enough?

Lastly, I wish for a PR (personal record). I’m a slow runner and I’m not mad about it.  I have asthma and have overcome some big hurdles. If a runner is going to be bad at something, breathing should not be one of them. But, alas, I have sucked at breathing most of my life. So, slow beats not doing it at all. My goal is to be under 3 hours. I just want a mother effing 2 in the first number. It could say 2:59:59 and I would most likely do cartwheels at the finish line. I was nine seconds off in February and totally screwed it up and added 25 minutes in April. So 2:59:59… that’s what I want. But if that doesn’t happen…I just want to finish. I will get over the disappointment and beat the pants off myself next time!

Really, I will be striving to have fun, run, people watch, chat it up with old friends and meet new people.  But most of all…I’m never giving up on me. This chick is worth every ounce of effort. I deserve the best. So I’m going to go out there and get it myself. (Insert football like “slap on the ass” here). I’ve got this. But I’m still cool if you want to cheer and send out good vibes.

Until next time…

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2 Responses to “Dear Sweet Baby Jesus of Running…”

  1. audrey November 13, 2015 at 5:17 am #

    Good luck!!! You can break the 3:00!!!

    Like

    • DP Babbles November 18, 2015 at 2:02 pm #

      Thank you Audrey.!!! I will eventually get there. 🙂

      Like

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