Picking up from yesterday,
I don’t know if you remember this, but I had originally signed up to run the full marathon back before I decided to subject myself to a trail marathon (the previous weekend) as my first one. So, I had a marathon bib.
In the Rock ‘n’ Roll series, if you decide you want to do the half instead of the full, you can just run the half. They’ll adjust you in the results. They confirmed that for me in the morning when I got my bib, saying it was no big deal.
They were right. It wasn’t a big deal as far as the results were concerned, but it did bring embarrassing moments along the course. There was an extremely well marked area where the half marathon split off from the full. There must have been a million signs:
Full marathoners, get in the right lane.
Hey full marathoners, I know we just told you, but in case you didn’t hear us, right lane.
What’s up, full marathoners? You in the right lane yet?
Hey, all you cool cats doing the full! If you could just jump in the right lane when you get a chance…. If you’re not there yet, don’t sweat it. We’ve got about 100 more signs over the next 800 feet, so we got you.
And on and on and on they went. (Of course the signs weren’t really that wordy, but that was the gist of what they were saying.)
There I am in my bright yellow bib, continuing to walk in the left lane. Please, pay no attention to me. I’m just a girl wearing a bib as bright as the sun who’d like to stay on the blue bib side.
I felt like one of those people who hide away in caves and bell towers and things in dramatic stories/fairy tales – I know I’m a monster. Please, don’t look at me!
As if the signs weren’t enough, there were also people on bullhorns shouting out where to go.
Okay Seattle, I get it. The cool people are going to the right. I’m dressed up like one of them, but I’m just a fraud. I’m not as cool as they are. Get over it. (99% of the time when I say “get over it,” I’m talking to myself.)
I know that in truth no one was hassling me. Not even one bit. Most likely, no one was even looking at me.
I somehow survived the awkward split. Later, when we got to the highway portion, I was elated. I don’t know what it is about highways, but I love running on them. I saw a few people, without bibs, running in the opposite direction of the rest of us. I liked to imagine that they saw the race, realized the highway was closed, and slammed on their brakes. They proceeded to jump out of their cars and run toward the road screaming, “Hey look! The highway’s open for running!” (It probably didn’t happen that way, but it would be cool if it did.)
Seattle was a fun city to run through with cute landmarks and great running weather. It rained, but not ’til after I’d finished the race.
Once I finished, I made my way to the cook kids booth for my super special medals, and walked out wearing 3(!) – the one for the race itself, the Pacific Peaks medal for doing Seattle and Portland in the same year, and the Rock Legend medal for doing 7 RnRs in one year.
Clang, clang, clang. I made tons of noise everywhere I went.
My uncle picked me up. I had a quick dinner with him and our family. Before you knew it, I was back on a plane. A whirlwind trip of less than 24 hours. Goodbye, gorgeous Seattle!