As previously mentioned, I don’t normally eat or drink when I go for a run.
There are two reasons for this:
1) I hate carrying things with me.
2) I lack the skills necessary to run and drink water at the same time.
I did not realize that I was not in possession of the second skill until I ran the Disney Princess Half-Marathon. Then I discovered that were it not for the grace of God, I would probably stab myself in the eye whenever I tried to put on mascara.
And I’ve actually done that a few times.
Miles 1-5 I was doing well in the hydration department. I was holding my own and running like I had never run before. Everytime Kira and I went through a water stop I looked at the Disney volunteers and thought, ‘Psshaw! I laugh in the face of your powerade! Hahahahaaaaaa!!!!”
Then I got to mile 5.5 and thought, ‘WAAAAHHHHTAAAA!!!!!! Need wahta NOOOOOOOOWW!!!’
And there was not a hydration station in sight.
And I started singing, “You see I been through the desert on a horse with no name…”
And, “Waaaaaaaade in the waaaaaaater. WAAAAAAAADE in the WAAAAAATER, chiiiillllldren. Waaaaaaaaaaade in the waaaaaaater. God’s gonna trouble the- HYDRATION STATION!!!!”
I don’t know if they’re actually called “hydration stations,” but I never turn down a good rhyme.
Now everytime I’ve seen someone get water during a race, they always look extremely cool doing it. They seamlessly grab a cup, down the contents, and keep on truckin. They don’t slow down. They don’t stop. They’re so focused on the run that their arm develops its own motor skills, brings the cup to their mouth, and pours the contents down their gullet without spilling a drop.
Last week I somehow managed to cut my tongue while brushing my teeth.
So you can imagine how trying to drink and run at the same time went.
I grabbed the first cup offered to me, said “Thank you!” to the Disney volunteer (I may scoff inwardly, but I don’t forget my manners in public) and promptly poured an entire cup of ice-cold water down my shirt.
My first thought was, “Well that was unfortunate.”
However, the first words out of my mouth were, “FREAKIN’ CUP!!!!”
Not to be deterred, I quickly grabbed another cup, lifted my arm, and proceeded to douse the person running next to me.
Although she was also reaching for a cup, so really I was just helping her out.
Of course we were at mile 6 when this went down.
Mile 6.5 is when you get to run through Cinderella’s castle.
At Cinderella’s castle, they have professional photographers standing by to take pictures of you.
When my picture came in the mail, I showed it to my friend, Ashley. She said, “Wow, Byng, look at you! You look so fit in this picture.” She also commented on the fact that I had a perfect sweat ring around the neck of my shirt.
I took the compliment because I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t sweat.
It was water.
About 3 cups of water.
I didn’t get the drink and run technique down until mile 10.
(And when I say “drink and run technique” what I really mean is that I had to come to a complete STOP, drink my sad little cup of powerade, and then run to catch up to the pixie that passed me. Seriously, there were hundreds of pixies. I’ve never seen so many colorful tights.)
By then I was seeing mirages.
I saw Goofy riding an elephant with the Muffin Man. Don’t ask me why: I was dehydrated.
At one point, everyone around me started speaking French. That wasn’t really a mirage, it was just that there were some women from Quebec there and I got confused.
I saw pixies flying through the sky!
Oh no, that’s just normal Disney Princess Half-Marathon fare.
I’m still really perturbed that I got beaten by men in crinoline.
That’s like Pavarotti losing American Idol to The Village People.
Yes, I just compared myself to a large Italian man.
When you’re hurt you make comparisons that don’t make sense.
Being passed by pixies cuts deep.
That’s a wound that doesn’t heal overnight.