Where I Fall on My Face...Like Always.

I did it.

I ran my first race in six years.

That’s basically a lifetime. Especially when you consider the kids, marriage, house, and ensuing mental breakdown that comes when I take time to realize all that happened in 6 years and all before I turned 25.

This is why I act like such an old lady. It’s because I feel like I should be 85 years old right now.

I need to go quilt to cope with all this…

But really, I jest. It was a total blast. It was a 9 mile trail run and it was hilly. I kept thinking, “Well, this will all level out eventually. I probably won’t die”…

…1 million feet of climbing later…

“I’m certainly going to die.”

And the biggest problem that comes with running up an honest-to-goodness mountain? Having to go down the freaking thing.

I’m notoriously bad at running downhill…imagine the opposite of a mountain goat. Or a mountain goat with no legs.

Something like that. Either way there is a hell of a lot of swearing involved.

So as I’m clumsily trouncing my way down, my mom (who patiently waited for me at the top and bottom of every hill. She’s a saint. A really fast saint.) tells me to watch out for a rock.  So I watch that rock as I trip over it and slide down the hill, on my face. My head missed a tree by like, an inch.

It was epic. In a really embarrassing kind of way.

I’m still enamored with the bruises I got as a result. Those bad boys look ferocious.  

Anyway, we finished in a slightly embarrassing time of 1:20. My madre mentioned off-hand that she probably could have beaten someone who finished 10 minutes ahead of us…so that’s cool minus the part where I couldn’t run any faster.

(I admire her speed and the fact that she obviously has no feeling in her legs...)

In any case, we had fun and it gave me an excuse to slack off running for a couple of days afterward. Only problem now is that I can’t stop slacking off…

I could honestly not run for a week and just sit and eat potato chips all day, that’s the kind of mood I’ve been in all week. Somebody save me from myself.

I'm in pink (not the blonde one. duh.). I thought bright colors would minimize my chances of getting shot by a deer hunter. Because when I don't wear pink I look a lot like a deer, I'm sure. Photo from the peeps at Cascadia Trails