Sunday, August 20, 2006

Self esteem boost anyone?

If you're looking for a fun new way to boost your self esteem listen up. Apparently all you have to do is enter to run a road race in which you are the only female in your age group...
As I stood at the starting line of the 14th Annual Mark McCormick race, I mumbled to myself about what an idiot I was to agree to such self torture. I stared disgustedly at the giant hill rising in front of us which they had the gall to incorporate into the first 200 meters of the race. My 11 year old little sister stood at the starting line next to me and I glared down at her thinking You skinny super wench, you're gonna kick my ass! Who races for 3.1 flippin' miles?! The gun went off, and I consequently took off like a bat out of hell (which in my world equates to something slightly above a slow jog). I attacked the hill thinking just stay with Lizzie. About 3 minutes into the race my mind quickly changed over to just finish the race. About 2 miles in I was more in the mindset of just don't die. Running is 90 percent mental, or so I'm told, so it's probably not a good thing that the entire race thoughts ran through my head like This course is from hell, designed by Lucifer himself! and Holy geez I'm either going to die or puke on the next person who passes me. Somehow I managed to finish the race and was handed a little card with my race time and average mile time on it. As I looked indifferently at my less than mediocre 8:59 average mile time, I noticed that I was ranked as first place in my age group. I laughed and started to make my way toward the table full of giant cookies, when I all of the sudden I was handed a shiny gold metal as I passed the awards table. I stood there jaw ajar staring at the ribbon that it dangled from, which had "1st Place" printed over and over on it. I looked around suspiciously for hidden cameras and Ashton Kutcher and then placed the metal around my neck. As if on cue, the Rocky theme music immediately started in my head and I took a victory lap to the cookie table.
When I caught up with my family, my mom looked at me incredulously and asked, "How did you get a metal?" as if I'd stolen it from some faster skinner person unable to defend herself. "I'm a champion," I responded, and her eyes rolled. Lizzie (finishing over a minute and a half ahead of me), now glared up at me because her 3rd place metal didn't look quite so spectacular compared to my shiny gold one. Take that twig! I shot at her through mind waves. Moments later a reporter came up to verify the spelling of my name and I nonchalantly gave her the information as if this kind of thing happened to me all the time.
So in the end I left the course beaming with pride and relatively unscathed, minus the chub rub (to all my skinny friends, disregard this reference, I'll tell you when you're older and you've developed into the woman God meant for you to be).

1 comment:

Ogre said...