On Rural Half Marathons

At some point in my life, I was decent at running.  Not qualifying for Boston or anything, but I could squeak out 9 or 10 minute miles for long distances.  The day I hit 16 miles on a trail behind good old Kent State University I decided it was time to take my talents on the road.  I searched the interwebs for upcoming races, and lo, in a few weeks, there was one in Wooster, Ohio. This was rather convenient because my crush at the time was from Wooster, Ohio.  Geography Tom.  *Sigh*

Geography Tom was a kid I sat next to in, shocker, geography class.  It was one of the undergraduate requirements so they had several sections and stuffed as many scholars into the lecture halls as possible.

Of all the geography sections in all the campus, you had to come walkin' into mine.

He was a tall drink of water and made fun of the meathead wrestler in front of us.  After much low key flirting, we eventually exchanged AIM screen-names towards the end of the semester (WHICH WAS A BIG DEAL REMEMBER? IT WAS BASICALLY A PHONE NUMBER), class ended and so, too, my crush. Or so I thought.  One random night I messaged him on AIM asking if he knew of any parties because YAWN I sure was bored.  An hour later I was at his friend's apartment hearing Wonderwall for the first time. The beer pong game stopped so everyone could sing along.
I.
Was.
STARSTRUCK.
Everyone was belting this tune out, and that song was so good! I couldn't wait to add it to a mix CD later.  *Side note, Wonderwall came out in 1995.  This was 2004ish.  I MISSED HEARING ONE OF THE MOST OVERPLAYED SONGS OF THE 90s UNTIL I WAS A SOPHOMORE IN COLLEGE A DECADE LATER. This unfolded before me in an embarrassing way, but that tale is for another time.* In that moment, it was magic, and I thought the divine was pointing me towards his beer-bonging direction.

So, there I was, signing up for my first half marathon in Wooster, Ohio. Wooster is a fairly rural area where the local demographic is about 99% white farmer.  I should have known not many people would show up to a half-marathon in rural Ohio.

*foreshadow*

I planned and plotted, picked out a super cute running outfit (and did NOT wear it for a test drive beforehand because I wanted it to be perfect and cute the day of!  JFC) and slowly dropped hints on AIM as to my plans that I'd be in the area of his hometown where he happened to live during the summer, and I just so happened to be running a local half.  Oh, you ran track?  How neat! Oh!  That'd be great if I can couch surf because I have to be up SO early for the run, and why YES let's hang the night before, such a good idea. After printing out directions from mapquest, I was off to GLORY.

And in all honesty, that night was amazing.  We grabbed dinner at Crapplebees, played mini golf, drove around back country roads listening to Crossfade in his CJ7 with the roof off...  It was a perfect early 2000s summer evening by all accounts.

Then came race morning.  I guess things started ok.  I looked super cute when he dropped me off at the church where the race was starting and ending.  I checked in and told him I'd see him when I crossed the finish, then noticed there weren't that many people on the list...and they all seemed to be part of local running clubs. Huh.  No matter, I put on my headphones and got in place behind the starting timer.

And we were off!  Cruising right along....at quite a clip...jeeze they weren't messing around... but that's ok, I had some Britney on the mp3 and after a few clicks to skip the songs, it died.  Completely. Shit. Its. Pants. and I am not a runner that can run to the sound of her own thighs slapping together.  Speaking of, those super cute shorts DID let my thighs slap together, and I was getting a super huge welt between them. Within the first mile the entire group pulled ahead of me.

There I was, dead last in a half that was clearly just a training run for some Boston bound running clubs in rural Ohio.  And my heart's freaking delight was waiting for me at the finish line, where, at this rate, I would surely roll in an hour after the gazelles.   I tried to pick it up and made it to mile 8 before realizing this was about to be humiliating.  When the support van pulled up, I waved the white flag of defeat.  I sat stone faced in the back as I traveled with them to pick up the road cones and water stations.  I'd have to fake an injury...sprained ankle? ...heat stroke?

We pulled into the church just as the middle of the pack runners were coming down the road. Only we didn't pull to the side parking lot where the timer was or the cars and crowd had gathered .  WE PULLED INTO THE FRONT WHERE NO ONE WAS OR COULD SEE ME EXIT THE MEAT WAGON.  #blessed

"THANKSVERYMUCH" I yelled to the road crew and ran into the church.  Runners that had already finished were getting their post-race banana and water bottle.    I, too, grabbed the post race banana (a sure sign of race completion) along with all my shit and walked straight out of there and to Geography Tom's truck.  He was reading a newspaper when I knocked on his window.

"Hey!"  I said.

He startled.  "Holy shit - I didn't think you'd be done so soon."  He looked at the radio clock on the dash. "DAMN you made great time!  I'm sorry I missed you finishing....Geeze I didn't know you were such a runner.  I'd love to run a race with you sometime - let me know about the next one!"

"Sure, sure" I said.  "If you can keep up."

I know this face-saving opportunity was a gift from heaven, and I lied my tiny running shorts off taking advantage of it.  Sorry, Jesus.

And Geo Tom, if you ever read this, uh....well you might think this was all a little stalker-ish.  And you might be right.  But you were so cool! And I felt so dorky in comparison, and in my efforts to play it chill, my perfectly orchestrated plan fell apart. If I had to do it all over again.... I'd still do the same fucking thing.  :)

I had a blast, and hope you did, too.