Because the charity was the Arthritis Foundation, which I felt an affinity for since my grandmother had suffered terribly from arthritis, I made a bit of an effort at fundraising, sending an email to a rather long mailing list of friends far and near. But I think only my mother and I actually contributed—my sister probably meant to, but I don’t think she got around to it. No one else even responded. And I was the one feeling guilty for bothering them! I hate fundraising.
Still, despite my paltry success at raising money, I was inspired to make this a fun event, so I decided I needed a Christmassy running outfit. So off to Target I went. I got lucky, finding a red and white Adidas-style track suit (red jacket and pants with white stripes down the arms and legs), which I felt would give a Santa-like vibe but yet still be appropriate for running. Hat and gloves should have been easy, but in fact I spent quite a bit of time (and an excess of money) on potential red and white/cream possibilities from Target and later Macy’s, before settling on a red polar fleece cap and fluffy cream-colored gloves and scarf. Lorraine from my office was kind enough to make me a pompom to top off the hat in style! (Hopefully I will be able to find everything back for the 2007 run!)
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The upper levels at Westlake Center offered a nice view of the holiday decorations below, and the cheerful mob of Santa-garbed runners. As race time neared, I made my way into the crowd and toward the start line. I say toward the start line, because I was certainly nowhere near it. I think the top runners got to go to the front, but among the rest of us there was no attempt to separate the runners from the walkers, or divide up the pace categories as in the Race for the Cure. When the starting gun went off, there was a large shuffle in the direction of the start line—I am quite sure that it took five or even ten minutes before I actually crossed the starting line. And even then there was no running—the shuffle turned into a jogging walk, until eventually I was able to develop some kind of a pace.
That is undoubtedly why, even though I felt like I was running quite hard and fairly fast through most of the race, I saw that the time clock was well over 30 minutes before I approached.
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There were more important things to worry about, anyway. I had decided that this run would be a good opportunity for a fun Christmas photo to make Christmas cards to send to the few people that I send cards to. So I had my mother stationed at the finish line for a photo opportunity. But this was our first real try at race photography (except for the Dog Day Dash, which was a much smaller event), and we completely underestimated the mobs of people that would interfere with the finish line. Not to mention the trickiness of a digital camera which takes several seconds to record a picture—seconds in which a runner can enter and leave the picture frame before the photo is captured! I don’t think my mother even manage to see me at the finish line, let alone photograph me. Then, after crossing the finish line, there was an extremely frustrating period of trying to find her in the mobs, as we had not adequately designated a meeting point.
After meeting up and exchanging angry words and recriminations, we (and by “we” I mean “I”) decided that there was nothing to do but re-stage the finish and take the pictures we had missed. I determined then—which has served us well in future races—that the best place to take pictures is prior to the finish gates, where there are less bystanders to interfere with the shots.
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By that time the race finishers had dwindled—even the walkers were finishing—and it was time to leave. The nice thing about most races is that they start fairly early in the morning, and so it’s still early when you are done. Still early enough for—breakfast! We escaped downtown and headed back to Wedgwood to the Sunflour Café, calling Gretchen along the way and inviting her to meet us there.
Another nice thing about races is that you feel like you have earned yourself a good breakfast. So I tucked into a smoked salmon omelet and a side of delicious thick-cut bacon with gusto and only a little guilt.
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