Chocolate made me do it! And if you had tasted this hot chocolate you would have done it too.
I had a clique to run with...once upon a time...but I think when their alarm went of at 5:30 that morning, they opened one eye, checked the temperature and simultaneously shot off a text..."cold as a witch's tit...I'm sick...cough...catch u nxt yr."
And so I was left to go it alone. Hence the face. It was too cold and too early but I paid too much money to balk. I stumbled out the door haunted by visions of heated blankets and fuzzy socks...I thought about turning around...I thought about it a lot.
Music pumping, DJ clowning, chocolatiers jammed in on top of each other on Hank Aaron Drive taking selfies, and we were off into the heart of Hotlanta on a sunny, freezing Sunday morning. For the first full mile you could only trot until the crowd thinned out, then hills, hills and more hills! Thank you sir and may I have another?
Me? Trot? Maybe that's what I though I was doing...but the ache in my back, my butt, my calves and the shock in my heart were very contradicting. I far from trained for this, but I really thought I was maintaining my fitness by eeking out at least 5 miles a week on the treadmill. No ma'am, not at all! Having not street raced since the PRR last July, my body quickly informed me of how truly and miserably out of shape I really was...I was looking for the medical tent at mile 1 and seeing spots by mile 2.
By the time I rounded Fulton Street back onto Capitol Avenue, I caught my second wind, probably because I could see finishers with their cups of chocolate. I couldn't let them run out or else my pain would have been for nothing...had to...get to...chocolate...
I sped up and started passing people left and right, I started seeing the camera men. There is nothing worse than a painful run shot. We can't have that, I need you to see me smiling and running effortlessly, I have to look like I'm having a great time. Then I saw it ahead, the finish line, the clock, and that annoyingly fit guy who singles out the bigger girls with a condescending shout, a high five and a "you can do it! keep running!" If I could have gotten my foot off the ground I would have kicked him.
I did it! Chocolate time! Where is the tent? I cant see! Please! Please point me to the tent! Chewy...Warm...Gooey...Chocolate!
I joined the crowds of irresponsible 5Kers gouging themselves on chocolate and candy while convincing themselves that they earned it after their 'brisk walk'. We were wobbling, wopping and electric sliding ourselves into a chocolate coma at the after party.
My take away from my Hot Chocolate 15K/5K experience:
-Tall men should wear tall pants, I saw entirely too many unintentional ankles for my liking
-Please dress for the weather, you look ridiculous shivering in a shorts and an undershirt
-You should spit away from the crowd...funny how its not as obvious as you would think
-Chocolate is a serious motivational factor, albeit counterintuitive
-Chocolate after running makes people loopy and possibly illiterate (evidence below)
The swag! I can't forget the swag, the goodie bag that made me sign up to run in the street for the promise of chocolate all those months ago....
Was it worth it? Heck yeah! Paying to run in the street is my thing, reality check and all. The technical sweatshirt with thumb holes and waist pocket for my mp3 player is like a badge of honor, you runners know what I mean. Orange and brown last year, purple and black this year, who knows? Next year they might actually make the ladies sweatshirts in pink and I will do it again, all for the incredibly inexplicable love....of chocolate.
