This is going to be old news to most of you, but...what the hell. It's another bragging op. I can't let it pass.
Back on Memorial Day, Baroy ran in a 5K sponsored by the town just east of ours. The stars aligned in ways previously unheard of, and N not only agreed to a sleepover at a friend's house the night before, but actually STAYED at that sleepover. Since Em and the friend who slept over at our house are old enough to stay alone for an hour or two during the day, I went with Baroy to the race, and did the 5K walk.
I didn't start out meaning to actually race. I was just going to take a walk, is all. I was going to spend the morning doing an activity with my husband, though at a muchMUCHmuch slower pace. I was mildly excited about it. It would be fun. I'd get in a 3-mile walk, listen to the audiobook on my iPod (The Red Tent, which I'd read in actual book form once before), and check out all the what-I-consider-mansions along the route.
But then my competitive streak kicked in. I like to say I'm not competitive, but I lie. I am. I just don't admit it in situations where I have no chance of winning. Like in anything even vaguely athletic. Like even in a walking race.
Still, it was hard not to get a little into it. I mean, there I was, Crazy Walking Lady, and there were all these people just strolling along, ahead of me. Uhnuhn. Not OK.
First I passed the ladies walking their dogs. Then there was the couple holding hands and talking about the various tree species we were passing. And then there was the couldn't-have-been-a-day-under-80 guy. If I couldn't beat him...
So, yeah. I put a little more effort in than I'd thought I would. But there were dozens upon dozens of people ahead of me, and I couldn't catch them all. So when I crossed the finish line, and the lady noting my time and bib number said, "Did you walk the whole thing?" I didn't think twice about it. In fact, once I'd found Baroy (who'd finished his run a good 20 minutes before I'd come in), and gone to all the booths to pick up free coffee samples, a banana, and a bagel, we headed home.
It was fun, though. It was a good morning.
The next day, back at the office, my phone rang, and it was Baroy.
"We should have stayed," he said, sounding exciting, and laughing at the same time.
"Stayed? Where? When?"
"At the race. After the race. Because apparently, there was a medal. For you. Being that, you know, you came in third among all the female walkers."
"But...but...What about all those people in front of me?"
"Must have been runners who got tired and walked. Because I'm looking at the official race results, and your name is right there."
Me. My name. At the top of a list of race results. A race I won. (If you count third place as winning, that is. Which I do. Because damn. Who'd'a thunk? Me. With a medal. For a sorta sport.)
It's been three weeks now, and I still chuckle every time I think about it. And I chuckled again, yesterday, when the medal Baroy had arranged to have mailed to me arrived...along with a $50 gift certificate to my favorite local restaurant.
I am athlete. Hear me roar.