Yesterday I completed the Hollywood Half Marathon. It was an impromptu race, as I jumped in for an injured friend, and it definitely had its challenges. I wasn't always sure that I would cross the red carpet finish line, so I'd like to take a few moments to thank all those who helped make it possible. My apologies in advance for anyone who I forgot.
I'd like to thank the Academy, for providing me with a medal so large it can double as a dinner plate.
Thank you to the producers of Pitch Perfect, and to Taylor Swift, for writing 1989, as both albums helped pump me up during the race.
Thank you to time zones, for making it not rude of me to call Dad at 6 a.m. my time on a Saturday, for the traditional pre-race, over-the-phone prayer.
Thank you to the downhill portions of the course for being slanted downward.
Uphill portions, I think you know how I feel about you.
Thank you to the Red Bull vendors near mile 9, for not throwing your drink in my face when I said, out loud, that I might vomit if I drank your product.
OH THANK HEAVEN for 7 Eleven, for 1) being along the course, and 2) for having vaseline in stock. My chafed legs will be ever grateful.
Thank you, then, to my sports bra, for holding the jar of vaseline, providing me with a very one-of-a-kind rack for the morning.
A HUGE thank you to the police officer who did NOT arrest me for indecent exposure. When you made a bee line toward me after I slathered vaseline on my legs, I have to say my heart raced for reasons other than cardio. Thank you for keeping my record clean.
Thank you to all my friends and family who sent me encouraging and silly texts throughout the race.
Thank you to the genius race organizers for placing the finish line a full mile away from my train stop. I really enjoyed the continued movement after 13.1 miles.
Thank you, Port-a-Potties, while you were few in number, for being there at all. I was tempted, as many have done in the streets of Hollywood, to drop trou and pee right where I pleased, but thanks to you I didn't have to.
Thank you to Dad, for your running counsel over the phone. For shouting, "NO!" when I asked if I should purchase Neosporin, and insisting I get vaseline instead. Your 60+ way-faster-than-me self is a trusted voice of reason, and I know it may have been annoying to receive several phone calls from me while you were trying to drive across Missouri. Your enthusiasm helps turn my attitude around. Since running is fun for you, it becomes, well, semi-fun for me.
Thank you to the man pushing another adult man in a wheelchair for the duration of the course. You were my "I can do this" inspiration.
Thank you, Alex, for always telling me that I can do things. Your voice over the phone line will ever comfort me.
Thank you to the cross on a steeple that stood in the foreground of my view of the Hollywood sign, reminding me who stands first in my life, for reminding me that this was just a silly race, and I am your beloved child whether I were to finish or not.
Thank you to the five slices of pizza for letting me eat you.
Thank you, bed, for being so comfortable for my nap followed by 12 hours of sleep. Thank you, Max, for snuggling with me all night, every night.
Thank you, Abby, for carbo-loading with me the night before, and letting me borrow your computer to load up the iPod with fresh tunes. And thanks for cracking open a beer for me as soon as I walked in the door, post-race.
Thank you, Becky, for graciously letting me run in your place. I hope your foot feels better soon.
Now, I can see that this speech is getting too long. So before I pull a Julia Roberts, I'm gonna leave you all be.
Me and my sore legs will be perched here in my favorite booth at Panera, hammering out another freelance job. Am I crazy to say I'd rather be back on the course? Spoken like a true procrastinator. Time for a refill on the coffee and to get down to it. Thanks for reading this blog. Writing for the Daily Bailey is my favorite way to put off other work.
Bailey, the girl you can always count on to take a walking break. :)