So, I'm not sure if you know this yet or not... but, I'm kind of a big deal. I consider myself to be a first-class, hardcore running machine.
Skills to back it up? Yes.
Fast? Umm… No. So, I’m not legitimately a big deal, but I like to consider myself a big deal.
Saturday, my cocky, awesome self decided to slum it with my mom and run in a 5k in Hendersonville.
First off, here is a picture of my mom and I pre-racing at home.
Notice that she is all decked out in a matching nike outfit. She’s got the matching top, shorts, and even the jacket. Go mom, stylin' and profilin'. And look at me. Rocking it in a baggy 100% cotton t-shirt and running shorts. Gone are the days when I would spend 60 bucks on a new “racing” outfit for a 5k. No sir, I only buy new outfits for marathons, now. I can’t be bothered with shopping and planning an outfit for a 5k. Please.
We get to the race and like all big-time runners, I quickly assess my competition. First of all, let me tell you that the temperature was 58 degrees and muggy. So, I immediately discredit all those wearing long sleeves and long pants and those with makeup on.
The race starts and I am impressed by those that I just discredited. They seem to be holding up well despite the rainy, hilly start. I keep expecting them to completely bail out and start walking, but they don’t. They continue running, even in their long pants and long sleeve tops! And my mom… she decided to wear the jacket for the race and it turned out working out for her, as she was able to put the hood on while it was raining. She was styling like Rocky Balboa, now. She was breezing along through those hills, even carrying on a conversation with and encouraging a little boy (who incidentally, kept running right in front of me trying to keep me from passing him. Little Punk. Don’t you worry folks, I burned him eventually. Cause I’m a hardcore runner in a t-shirt, and people… you just can’t mess with that street cred).
I started to push it at about a mile and a half. I wanted to really test my limits. Just like Steve Prefontaine, baby. (That's right, I'm comparing myself to Steve Prefontaine).
I’m not too hardcore, though, to smile at the camera lady as I pass by. (Although why she couldn’t get me in my own frame and not completely blocked by another dude, I’ll never understand). Look at me, I'm so hardcore I even have a police escort. Check it.
I finished the race in 26:44. My mom finished in 27:39. She rocked it, too.
So, we waited around for the awards, because I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before (yes, I have), but my mom is pretty hardcore, too. Like she wins awards and stuff.
The age division just ahead of mine, had slower runners than me. So, I was getting all ready to casually stroll up and receive my mug and glove awards when they called my name. But, it’s the funniest thing… they didn’t call my name. In fact, my age group had the most people in it of all the age groups and I came in 7th! Can you believe that??? 6 people ran faster than me. Damn them. I guess I’m not as hardcore as I thought. My sweat soaked 100% cotton t-shirt must have slowed me down a couple of minutes.
My mom, on the otherhand… in her matching outfit, won 1st place! And she could barely fit into my car afterwards with her big head, coffee mug, gloves, and award certificate. Jeez. Always showing me up.