It's an annual thing, getting corporately challenged. (Well, at least it is for all the cool kids.)
This year, I had a better idea about what I was in for, and I was psyched! I was going to run my little heart out and show the rest of my team how valuable I could be! (Aren't I cute when I think like a freshman?)
Yeah, ok, so it looked like rain. Whatever. It rained last year, and I survived. (Please god don't rain, please oh please oh pleaseohplease!)
Sidebar: I thought about bringing a backup pair of shoes (in case mine got soaked, like they did last year), and I had a sweater to put on in case it was really cold. But, looking back, once I started to get cold, I forgot about the sweater all together, and truly wished I had brought the extra shoes.
The team was much bigger this year. About 25 of us headed out of the office (we were like the corporate version of the Blob), took to the subway (much to the chagrin of regular 1 train riders everywhere) and arrived at the park en masse, all of us wearing our stunning "Talk to my Lawyer" t-shirts. (Sadly, the "funny" part of the shirt (if you're even that generous about it) was on the front. Which is not the part that ANYBODY ever saw. Next year they should give us shorts with that emblazoned across the ass!)
We forded our way into the crowd, ready to run, but found ourselves stuck together for another fifteen minutes or so (which was fine by me, because, once again, I had picked a cool group of people to be with). Once the race finally started, I fired up a little Elvis Presley and had a grand old time. Those first few minutes are my favorite -- bobbing and weaving through the people, narrowly avoiding stepping on someone's heels, and not yet feeling like the next burp might have a visitor tagging along with it. I have to be so present when I run in a pack like that, that a mile can go by without me even noticing it. I kept remembering something I had written earlier, about how running is much easier when you think of it in now-sized chunks.
Because, oh, did I mention it started to rain? Not just a little rain, either. A big soaker. The kind of rain commuters hate getting stuck in. A puddle-builder rain. A shirt-drencher rain. A raisiny-foot-maker rain.
Things were going well, but damply, until about mile two.
"Excuse me, Kate?"
"Yes?"
"We'd really like to stay here for a while."
"Um, no, macro-vegan thai dumplings that I had for lunch. You kind of need to cross the finish line with me."
"No, thanks. We like it here. We think we'll stay."
"NO! That's rude, and contributes to my overall fear of barf in public places. You, dumplings (and salad and cookie), will stay inside me even if it makes my tummy cramp and I smell worse than the guys from Google!"
(and p.s., maybe it was just something about the fabric of the Google shirts, or maybe it was because they had no sleeves, but those guys were STINKY! woof!)
Anyway, I (with the dumplings -- and, oddly, the Tattoo impersonator in the bright orange t-shirt and wildly yanked up knee socks who had been surging and retreating around me for the whole race) finished the race in Kate's Record Time (32:00 on the nose -- 29:00 if you subtract the three minutes of marching in place) and walked off the rest of the ominous digestive threat. They gave us water and the biggest stack of bananas I've ever seen in my life, and I watched as all the racers' heads steamed. (I'd have killed for a camera. Or dry socks. Or a litter.)
Oh, did I mention that it stopped raining? As soon as the race was over. Cute.
I met up with a co-worker and headed over to the after-party bar, where we were promptly plied with greasy foods and much to drink. I ended up in a corner, listening to a guy kvetch about his love life, playing with the toy alligator that came in the fishbowl drink, eating mashed potatoes with my fingers, and all in all, feeling like part of a team. A bedraggled, half-drunk, soggy, and far-too-soon-to-be-regretful team, but a team nonetheless.
I definitely should have stretched, though. That's gonna hurt.
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