I went with a couple friends and we arrived in Ponte Vedra Beach around 5 am. We were trying to snake our way around the barricades when a news anchor stopped me for an interview. This would surprise most people but I have gotten used to my overwhelming charm and beauty attracting attention. She interviewed me about why I chose to run that particular race. I can't remember exactly what I said but I'm sure my words were charming and my face was beautiful.
Ok, so probably not that last thing. One of the friends I went with always wears makeup. Always. She told me that even laboring through childbirth her sister's only job was to continually reapply makeup. She had applied beautiful makeup at 4 am in preparation for our race. I furrowed my uneven brows at that and laughed. And then an hour later I was interviewed by a local news station with nothing on my face but the sheen of natural oil under the obscene glare of the news lights. She felt quite vindicated after that.
This doesn't mean I'm going to start wearing makeup all the time, of course. But I will not laugh quite as hard as I normally would at people who do.
The first half of the half marathon (a quarter of a full marathon, if you will. I don't look pretty on the news but I can do fractions. Usually.) was really fun. We ran through beautiful neighborhoods on the beach. People were out in droves, cheering us on, waving flags and offering food and drinks. It was amazing. The race had the usual stations of Gatorade, water, and energy gels but the spectators in this race set up tables of drinks, orange slices, Starburst and Dove candies, popsicles, doughnuts with pink frosting, even cups of beer. People were just popping open cans and pouring them into plastic cups to pass out to the runners. Little kids lined up on the side of the street to high five us and cops directing traffic called out encouragement. It was crazy. People held up signs that said the usual race sayings (Worst Parade Ever!) as well as really sweet words (Thanks for running - you are part of the cure!). I ran with middle-aged men in pink tutus with phrases like "I'm running for my mom" printed on on the backs of their shirts. There was also an old man (perhaps 80?) who ran the entire race holding a full-size American flag with the picture of his son on his shirt who had died in combat. It really was an emotional time.
Our names were printed on our bibs so every so often there was a call of "Great job, Jessica!" This as I unwrapped a Starburst while elite Ethiopian runners sped past on their way to winning the full marathon. Then there was what I can only assume was a gathering of frat boys, 20 something men in no shirts and pink Afro wigs, holding signs that said "We ALL love boobies - run faster!. There were even some very thoughtful guys offering free manual mammograms on the side of the race course.
So thoughtful.
It was the atmosphere that really made the race fun. People cried out "Way to Go!" as we ran down sun-drenched streets through bubbles from machines on folding tables and under banners waving over us. Street bands and boomboxes serenaded us with haunting melodies of "Baby Got Back."
After the first 6 or so miles we ran for a bit on the beach. I had stopped to admire the view when a couple people asked me to take pictures of them. I happily obliged. Then I began to run again.
"Wait!" called one of the guys in the group, "Are you still running?"
Turns out they were part of a relay team and had completed their portion. They apologized profusely for slowing me down but I told them no big deal, I don't care about my pace one bit.
Don't care about my pace, don't care about mascara...
The second half was less fun, as we had to run along a stretch of highway (closed to cars, of course). That was considerably more boring. Until the finish line that is, when it became much more exciting as I struggled to stay upright on my legs of pudding.
I finished last in my group, as we all knew I would. But it was really a fun race and a good cause and I plan to run it again next year - maybe even the whole marathon.
After I reapply my eyeshadow, of course.
