Raced my little heart out

I signed up about a month ago to do the Race for Life here in Lincoln.  It is something that I have wanted to do for a number of years, but have never done because life kept getting in the way of the race.  This year, however, I found myself committed to racing with about 8 other women from my gym (some staff, some members).

I knew from talking to others who have participated that it was going to be a light hearted event (although in support of a very serious cause).  I had seen pictures on the race for life website with women wearing pink wigs, tutus, etc.  I was prepared to dress up for the event by doning a pink tutu although I made the decision to not put it on until I got there and met up with everyone, in case I was the only one looking a bit silly.

How underdressed did I feel when I pulled up to the event and saw the 4,000 women already there dressed like they were going to nightclub on acid.  Wigs, tutus, ballgowns, dayglow fishnets, fairy wings and tiaras.  I slipped my sad little tutu over my shorts and waited for the rest of the gang to arrive.

I had no expectations of the event so when I got there was delighted to find out that that were giving out free body tatoos and pink water to everyone  (a bit like being at Coachella or Burning Man, but with all girls and some running thrown in).

They split everyone into groups of runners, joggers and walkers.  Four of us decided to 'jog' and the rest to walk.  Off we went in the hot sun, 4,000 shades of pink bobbing along the tarmac at RAF Waddington.  About 2 km in I realized:

 "Hey, I didn't eat breakfast this morning....it is 80 degrees with no wind....and I have done a proper race in about 7 years....I feel a bit sick to my stomach and I think my ankle is about to give...."

By the 4th kilometer, not even the bagpipe band and screaming masses were enough to keep me going.  I stopped to walk for a bit.  I felt really shitty and sorry for myself for about 500 meters.  Then I felt really shitty about being such a lame-ass.  I started thinking of my friend Helene, whom I was racing for, as well as all of the other women who have battled and are currently battling cancer.  These women get up every day and live their lives with uncertain futures and the pain and sickness that comes with fighting their own bodies. Those that I know personally have done it with grace and courage and who the hell was I to be whining about a sore ankle and nausea.  I felt shame at even allowing self pity to seep into my brain at that point and instead focused on their strength, which gave me enough strength to run like an olympic sprinter for the final furlong. 

Seriously, remember that scene in The Firm?  The one where Tom Cruise is running like his ass was on fire because the mafia was chasing him?  Well that, my friends, is how I ended my first Race for Life - glorious!!!

(I actually almost elbowed that small child in green to my right to stay ahead of her -

nothing says charity race like showing a 10 year old whose boss!)

As I always do after doing something crazy,exhausting, or physically demeaning - I rewarded myself with a large plate of nachos when I got home.  As I ate them, I thought of my friend Helene and how much she would laugh if she could have seen how funny I looked crossing the finish line in a pink tutu with my hair plastered in sweat and my arms flailing like a monkey. 

I am certainly marking this event in my planner as one to do next year.  I think I may start planning my costume now.