Today was a good day for a run--especially with a full bladder. I got to the Yellow (Hmm, foreshadowing?) area about 30 minutes before the start. As I stood waiting while countless beach balls flew all around us, my kidneys went into overdrive or something and I had to go. There was a huge line at the porta-potties so that wasn't going to work. I decided I'd hold it until the finish. Stopping to go along the way would cost me precious time. Yes, precious time. When I wasn't thinking about it I felt fine. The run went well but Doomsday Hill--my slowest mile--reminded me that I like ice cream too much. After crossing the finish line--I timed myself at 1:03:51, two minutes slower than last year--I got my T-shirt and made a bee line to the bathroom. Ahhhhhhhhhh.
Yeah, after fourteen consecutive Bloomsdays I'm reaching deep to find something to make each one memorable.
Tour de Creme
1 week ago
I don't know why, but those beach balls really really annoy me. I have yet to see someone who gets nailed on the head by one laugh about it.
The time before the race is a great time for personal reflection or chatting with the people around you - while fighting the urination sensation. Bouncing the beach balls is sort of a mindless time waster and intrusion - not that I am against wasting time. I blog after all.
I have often fantasized of popping one of those balls. I wonder what the crowd reaction would be. "Dude. You suck. You popped the ball."
Or what if the first time one got launched it hit the ground and never got picked up again?
I think I have made the complete transition to crotchety old coot.
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