The Saturday before last, it was pouring. I'd known the rain was coming, so I borrowed my roommate's water-resistant jacket and braced myself for two hours of soggy jogging.
I pulled into the parking lot and was surprised to discover no one else in my training group had showed. NO ONE! Well, no one besides the World Vision rep's husband, who usually sets up a table with Gatorade & water for us. He gave me some Gatorade and headed home, and I tried to muster up the desire to stay.
The Rose Bowl, usually crawling with cyclists, runners, & walkers had maybe 6 people braving the downpour. The first mile wasn't so bad, but mile 2 involved running through several newly-formed rivers covering half or more of the road. I was starting to think I'd have to swim it. haha. I felt an instant bond with my fellow water-logged runners as we nodded at each other or exchanged a few words in passing. It was like a rite of passage. All of a sudden I felt like I belonged there. It was exhilarating to make it through all 12 miles; I felt invincible.
This past Saturday was just the opposite. It was the hottest training day I've had so far. Somehow I'd skimped on drinking water the day before, so that didn't do me any favors. I was dying. My goal was 15 miles but I only got 12 again, walking way more than I wanted to. It felt like I was competing in the Iditarod (minus the sub-zero temperatures), my dogs had quit on me, and I was pulling them and my sled behind me in waist-deep snow. Every step was a monumental effort, and I was fighting my body to stay upright and in motion. Hopefully I can chalk that up as my worst training day and it'll be smooth sailing now.
I am competing in the marathon to raise money for World Vision's efforts to provide clean drinking water in Africa. I upped the ante for myself this Sunday and challenged the youth of my church (who are participating in another World Vision fundraiser). If they raise more than me, I'll dye my hair any color they choose for a week. I had braced myself for hot pink or jet black when they all jumped on the idea of rainbow-colored. Wow. Only you can prevent me spending a week as a circus clown. :) So if you have a few bucks burning a whole in your pocket, you can sponsor me here: Clean Water for Africa!
And if you're thinking it might be pretty funny to see me with rainbow-colored hair, I'll make you a deal. If I raise more than $1,000, I'll dye my hair either way.
