Kidney Kare 5k Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall registered as Kilgore Blowfish. It's a nearly indecipherable Kurt Vonnegut reference mixed with the fish I look most like in race photos. Having "Blowfish" in big letters on the race number is a good reminder that if I don't stick out the chest and suck in those cheeks, the very best I can hope for is being named Miss Congeniality. And everyone knows that it is one small step from being named Miss Congeniality to being named "Most Determined" in Foot Fetish Prostitution Quarterly's Spring Rankings Issue.

Ladies....

Pre-Race:
Megan and I ran hill repeats for 1:30 yesterday evening, because there is no such thing as a healthy relationship that can't be reconstructed by a forensic scientist using sweat and snot splatter analysis. Upon getting home from the year's first warm run (83 degrees!), my pee looked like Canada's number 1 export. Justin Bieber! No.....wait. My pee looked like maple syrup. So Canada's number 2 export.

Checking the race schedule before dinner, we saw the Kindey Kare 5k, which gave 100 dollars to the winner and benefits a charity which teaches young children to spell. The race organizers did not have such a program when their phonics were impressionable.

Kare Bear Koitus.

Actually, it was for kidney transplant research, which is amazing, and especially important to me because loved ones are going through a transplant process right now. I love those guys and am thinking about them every day. However, science has not yet figured out a cure for whatever is going on with my brother's face.

(Picture omitted for those who do not wish to turn to stone)

So I woke up at 7 for the 8:30 race, had some sugary coffee to whisk the lethargy out of my bowels, and drove to the race site. After a warm-up which consisted primarily of praying that no one who knew me showed up for what would certainly be a performance best timed by sundial, they called the racers to the line. "Sub-16 pace up front," the woman with the loudspeaker bellowed. 2 guys moved up. "Shit!" I both thought in my head and dropped behind a tree in the woods. I proceeded to approach the front when they said 21 minutes plus, because I wanted the element of surprise. KUMQUAT! Bet that surprised you. And you aren't currently running a fast 5k. See, the logic is inescapable.

Strip to underwear, toe the line, AND THEY'RE OFF!

The pace car leads me toward the Quad.

Race:
Just before the gun, I dumped water all over myself to deal with the warmth. It also qualified me for the Wet Compression Shorts Contest, where I finished first in spectator vomit and small-child mental scarring. A Bull City Running guy that looked awesome took off at sub-5 pace, so I sat back a bit, hoping to loosen up. Pulling alongside him a half-mile in, my body felt like it was being propelled forward by a 1972 Ford Pinto engine with two moist, floppy chicken tenders instead of wheels. Thinking speed might make things better, I showed the other racer the rusty exhaust pipe (here, rusty exhaust pipe is a metaphor for pulling away, and not the sexual act legal only in Tijuana), and passed the mile with a firm lead.

From here on out, I just wanted to get to the finish and the complimentary post-race TCBY. This was the first race I have entered unrested, and where I felt the fatigue the most wasn't in my legs, or my breathing, but in my feeling of horrible uncoordination. Today was the opposite of smooth. So....rough, I guess. Like the role of the Tijuanan armadillo in the rusty exhaust pipe. There were some hills, and the course measured 3.2 miles on the Garmin's I saw, so I was utterly shocked to see 15:50 on the clock at the finish. I ended up with a 40 second margin of victory, a good tempo run, and some amazing frozen yogurt. 1 of those 3 will go straight to my midsection. Which I guess is good, because a well-developed muffin-top would protect the children from horrible sights in any future wet compressions shorts contest.

It felt like great training to run at the end of a weekly cycle, so these super-informal tempo races might become routine. (UPDATE: 3rd place has a 1:10 HM on his resume, so it might have been a slightly better day than I thought) Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else. You guys are amazing, and I hope the start to your Spring is perfect!

Blog Change

So the blog is going to change a bit while I am in law school. For one, it will be lazier. How can it be any lazier? you may ask while pantomiming a very, very slow dismissive wanking gesture. Well, I may say through the cascading tears, overrated literary conventions like "narrative structure" and "proper spelling" will be replaced with starting posts with the word so and inventing inquisitive readers that ask exactly the question I seek to answer, while allowing me to post humorous videos.



Basically, there will still be race reports, and the occasional serious post, but also more daily updates of ideas, training, and whatever else comes out of the tired hamsters performing an uninspired rendition of the Vagina Monologues that is my thought process. However, I am only allowed 10 minutes to write. It will be like an action movie! Which I guess you won't be able to see. And it will mainly involve typing. Against the clock. To tell a story. BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE.

For example:

Today I ran. I was tired. I am on the track tomorrow. I ate food. ALL HAIL XENU.

Random Spring Break picture, which includes my brother! It is almost Spring, so his eyebrow will be a butterfly at any moment.

Ummmm....we will work on ironing out the kinks. Thanks so much for everything, this will be a lot of fun. XENU PROMISES.

Spring Break Sights

It's Spring Break! Which means I'm back on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, a place where Confederate Flags are flown next to American Flags, likely outside houses whose stairs were designed my M.C. Escher. These citizens, aside from being paradox-ignorant, often look similar to how they smell. In other words, vaguely reminiscent of a Skoal Can filled with two-week old catfish. Basically what I'm saying is that Drew Carey should update The Price is Right, and remind everyone to spay and neuter their local racists. Now that would be patriotic.

The Eastern Shore is amazingly beautiful though, and I always look forward to aimless long runs around my childhood home. The plan is to run a fast 5k in late March (hopefully in the mid-14's based on recent workouts), and a key to getting stronger recently has been monthly 3-hour jaunts. Aside from jaunting, ambling and sauntering are acceptable. Don't you dare frolic, though. The guy with the Confederate Flag looks to frolickers for his hate crime quota.

The trail was inundated, necessitating lots of barefoot running across flooded sections after Sunday's 3-inch rainstorm. This plank bridge is usually 20 yards from the river!

Tuckahoe Lake, taken while standing in the reeds post-run. If only the Indians knew what our phonetic pronunciation would do to their majestic bodies of water.

The trail ended at a cemetery. Which, as a metaphor, is slightly more sobering than if it was an ice-cream shop.

This is actually a side trail most of the year. The power of nature inherent in the rush of water is so amazing.

Two pictures of the same mushrooms. Of all the fungi,
probably in the top 5 for taking pictures.

More of the mushrooms. In a pinch, I can also do
carrots. Or any phallic vegetable, really. VERSATILITY.

Also, side-by-side pictures. I AM A COMPUTER GOD. /takes a celebratory sip of Capri Sun. One or two more:

THE CHOSEN PLANT.

Okay, I'll stop. Time to go for a run! I will be shirtless and in tights, because dodging cigarette butts from pick-up trucks is great for agility. Anyway, things are amazing, and I owe all of that to the people in my life. Thanks so much for being there, and I hope things are amazing!