Friday, July 6, 2012

Dear Peachtree

Dear Peachtree,

We had fun the other day, didn't we?  Granted, it wasn't my best showing, but hey-that's probably what you get when you don't train for a 10k, and instead decide to run the day before it happens.  Also known as, "overestimating your athletic capabilities."

I was rash, and decided earlier in the week that I wanted to subject myself to the torture run the race.  Fortunately, and only hypothetically, of course, a sweet friend had an extra race number, and allowed me to take it off her hands.

For the record, you knew me the other day as Melissa.

Again, only hypothetically.

You know what I love about you, Peachtree?  The fact that for SIX SOLID MILES I had to bob and weave my way through the other 60,000 crazy people that thought it would be a good idea to NOT sleep in and instead run for an hour in the Georgia heat.  Delightful.

I also really enjoyed how, about mile 4, I started to feel minor symptoms of what was probably a heat stroke coming on, which sent me desperately (and vainly) in search of some Gatorade. Let me just tell you, I seriously would've paid $100 for a bottle of Gatorade, or just ANY primary colored liquid masquerading as a sports drink, at that point.

On the other hand, the beer that got sprayed in my face by some random nut job kind spectator was totally refreshing. Or NOT.

But, we did it, didn't we?  And by "we," I actually mean "me," because clearly you did nothing except make me almost die out there, while having only some Justin Bieber to get me through.


Your friend,
Sherri "Why Did I Do This Again?" Dickens

I mean, Melissa.

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