Wednesday, September 30, 2009

A Borderline Love Thing

It's possible I might be even more of a sicko than the sickos who get up at the crack of dawn to go running. Why? Because I don't get up at the crack of dawn to go running. Oh no. I get up at the crack of dawn to watch other people run.


Sunday morning I got up at 6 a.m. to see three months of training come to fruition when my dude ran the State-To-State Half Marathon.

He eats 13 mile runs for breakfast. I prefer glazed donuts.

He sacrifices sleep to get in a run. I sleep during his runs.

He creates and plans calendars for his training. I make fun of him.

But I was proud of him Sunday morning when he came screeching down the cobblestone in Oxford. I can spot the cadence of his footfalls a mile away, and I was snapping pictures long before he really came into view.

And I continued to snap pictures after he crossed the finish line, hunched over like he was going to throw up and looked at me all
confused and glassy before he finally went to his knees and sat in the street.

I've never seen him slowly collapse like that before... and it was awesome. (Of course made sure he was ok as I took photos. Sheesh, what kind of girlfriend do you think I am?)

"You ok?" Click, click click. "You gonna throw up?" Click, click. "For real, you don't look so good." Click, click.

He was totally fine.

While he ran 13.1 miles I downed 16 ounces of grande latté, and let me tell ya folks, it was no easy task. I was full by the halfway point, but I pushed through. As Adam was staring at the cobblestone in throw-up pose I empathized by telling him I wasn't feeling so hot myself. "Yeah dude, I just drank a latté and believe you me, stomach ache!"

As punishment he made me carry around an apple and a oatmeal cream pie for him post-race. "You're in charge of snack transportation," he said. Pssht. Like I can be fooled by a fancy title. (Ok fine, it totally worked.)

Anyway, I was hoping his jaunt might inspire me to put on my ol' running shoes again. No such luck. I love watching races but I kinda hate running. I guess you could call it a borderline love thing.

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