My intel had told me that Chris K had spent Friday night hitting up the $3 margaritas, so Saturday was the perfect opportunity to chick him while he was jogging off his hangover. (Cue evil laugh)
|Know when to say when|
I did a little sightseeing while I waited around for my competition.
|This guy is called the Kardiff Kook|
San Diego may indeed be beautiful, but at 62 degrees, it was about 30 degrees cooler than Illinois at this time of year. There would be no sweating off of any thorns in this cool weather. Despite the (thankfully temporary) disappearance of my foot, by mile ~1.5 I had pulled far enough ahead that I could make a quick wardrobe adjustment and comply with the spirit of the contest.
At this point, I'm running about a 7:15 pace and thinking that maybe ice cream is the way to go for fuel from now on. The winter gear induces sufficient sweat, so I peel off the extra layers as I run. Unfortunately, the shirt gets stuck on my head and I run a little extra distance before I can get free. Even so, I manage to get back to the shady spot by the finish line restrooms in time to see Chris K meander in after me. His finish line hoopla comes to a quick stop as I stand up and he realizes that he has, in fact, come in second in the San Diego division of SYTO'11.
I have won the
And then I woke up, set up a yard sale in our driveway, sold a bunch of junk we don't need anymore, cleaned up the yard sale, had dinner, went to a baby shower, came home, went to bed, and never once managed to run a measly 3.1 miles.