So, I ran in my first race (of sorts) last Sunday. I s-u-c-k-e-d. And by sucked, I mean sucked. I came in dead last, though by some mixup, the officials put my running partner as coming in last.
I thought I had enough stamina to run in a 6k, but obviously not. I'm pretty sure I saw a tortoise go past me. And he had one leg bandaged.
But anyway, the spectators were really supportive and kept saying that finishing was the most important thing. And my running partner said that counting from the back, we were the firsts. What an optimist. Haha, good times though.
So after the race, there was a raffle ' un sorteo' (add that to the myriad of Spanish words that I learned) and even though some 30 or 40 prizes were given away, I didn't get a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g.* Menos mal though since most of the food that they were giving away was fattening. Anyway, my running mate won 2 bottles of wine and 2 boxes of cookies, so looking at the situation from another point of view, I won 1 bottle of wine and a box of cookies. What more could I ask for?
For a while now, my vision of hell has been of a place where I would have to run non stop. Something like an everlasting treadmill. Only God understands how much I dislike running, yet I still think it's the best exercise for me. So I plan to run again. Just after I've practiced more and psyched myself up.
*Actually, I got a fabulous shirt which I have worn every day this week. It's pretty sweet.
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