1) Eating a peanut butter and honey sandwich in an elevator.
2) Starting the race with Clive and Mabel. Who enthusiastically* performed awesome Jazzercize moves with me while surrounded by a gajillion strangers in the pre-dawn cold.
|JAZZ HANDS, PEOPLE! JAZZ HANDS!|
4) Pirates! At mile mile 7.5 and 10! And, yes. They were shooting at us. With blanks. Probably. I mean, the road was a little sticky... but most likely it was just Gu.... Right? (races off to check running shoes) Um... does Gu come in raspberry?
5) Being lapped by the elite marathoners. Twice. Because they run at the speed of light.
6) Leaping over the road kill the elites left, Wile E. Coyote style, in their wake and yelling, "DEAD SQUIRREL!"
7) Complete strangers cheering me on at almost every corner! Because putting people's names on the race numbers you pin to the front of your shirt is sheer BRILLIANCE!
8) Hearing the announcer say as I raced down the finish chute,"Looks like we have a real treat for you all! Blah, blah, blah" (because it's physically impossible to understand announcers when you are sprinting out the end of a race) and feeling like a ROCK STAR! But then looking over and seeing the first place marathoner cross the finish line just in front of you. I may have stole some of his applause. But only a little bit. Just under 50%, or so...ish.
9) Eating post race food! In a bathtub. Fully clothed. Because Ellie needed a nap and waxed paper wrapped seitan burgers are noisy. Plus, I had just run 13.1 miles and eating in a bathtub just made good solid logical sense at the time.
10) And then Ellie woke up and there was Powell's. And all was right with the world.
Because that world also came with a donut:
And a guy hiking with a Segway:
*As long as a 3/10 on the Enthusiastic Scale still rates as enthusiastic. Which, it should, because three is totally a magic number. School House Rock told me so.