I finished the Poolesville St. Patty’s 5k. My Varmint was a source of pressure, I will admit. But regardless of how it happened, I finished it.
Oh, don’t kid yourself, I walked.
And you can also believe that I came in dead last.
But that’s ok. I like to brag that I’m in a league of my own.
The day started out promisingly. My Varmint and I woke up to a mostly sunny, but still romantically foggy morning. We put on our Green St. Patty’s Day duds, and set forth to Poolesville. I hadn’t had my coffee. We hadn’t had breakfast. But we did remember to fill our water bottles. I did not put Irish Whiskey in mine, though I was sorely tempted.
Varmint was in all the colors of the Irish Flag, and looked so cheery and fresh, I was almost glad to be awake.
There was no starting gun. It was more of a “Welp, ya’ll wanna get started?”
And off we went.
Varmint and I walked, talked, and laughed as people passed us. Children passed us. Babies in strollers passed us. It wasn’t long before we were bringing up the Rear. Yes, with a capital “R”. Varmint and I decided to define ourselves as the “Safety Sweep” of the 5K.
We weren’t even 1/3 of the way through when the faster participants passed us on their way to the finish line. Seriously.
But we had a good time anyways…and frankly, I wasn’t out to hurt myself. I’m all about feeling good in my old age.
Or my 40’s.
And lets face it, if I die when I’m 50, I’m in my old age right now.
At the parking lot after the event was over, the serious athletes drank Gatorade to rehydrate and replenish electrolytes.
I took Motrin. 800 Milligrams.
Varmint patted my shoulder as if to say, “It’s ok, Mom. I love you no matter how pathetic you are.” She’s a good kid.
I guess if I were to sum up the whole experience, it would be this:
And no, I’m not telling you where it had to go.