It worked out really well work-wise that I manage parts of the Bay Area and was able to get some face-time in with my customers while I was away these past few days. It also worked out really well since that meant my NWM plane ticket was paid for by the company. Double win! (but mostly the plane ticket part)
I headed up to San Jose early Thursday, had a few meetings, did some biznass, drove for hours in a tiny Kia rental whose seat would not go back far enough to let me drive without bending my legs. Note to all : Do not buy Kia Forte if > 5’7″.
Since I’m a planner I coordinated my visits so that I would conveniently end my day a short drive from downtown San Fran. Which, not coincidentally, is where the race expo was taking place. If I was a real super planner, I would have rescheduled the visits and the entire race for when the Giants were playing in town, rather than in Philly. Postseason Baseball has my heart, regardless of who is playing (bonus points if the Yankees or Red Sox are losing and/or absent).
I went to the stadium and stalked around in hopes of a Lincecum sighting anyways :
After driving around like a total half-wit for 30 minutes (Did you know San Fran is very driver un-friendly? You probably did, because you’re not a moron like me.) I finally parked and headed over to the “Expotique”, about an hour after it opened. I’d heard terrible things about it being lousy and all about Nike selling their junk, so I didn’t have high expectations. I did however, expect to get in and out quickly, since I was such a great planner and got there super early.
I’m not even going to waste your time writing about how much this sucked. I waited for almost an hour to pick up my packet. That’s all you need to know. End of story, moving on. Stab stab stab.
Since I still had an ounce of sanity and stabbing-restraint left, I made my way over to Niketown to see if they had any garb worthy of paying full retail for. Ask me why I thought this would be a good idea. Please, ask me. I HAVE NO BRAIN. That’s why. I was drunk/on drugs/asking for a reason to stab somebody.
They could have been selling tempo shorts for $1 and I don’t think I would have stayed to fight the crowd. So.Many.Women. All anxious and full of adrenaline and carbs. Scary.
Another thing about a huge race for women? Think about it : Four-week cycle. 20,000 participants = 5,000 PMS-ers and 5,000 A. Flo’s to deal with. (Now I understand the importance of Ghiradelli on the course. Maybe Midol in the race bags next year?)
In college I lived with three other girls and there was a brief period (ha) where we were all on the same cycle. People could have been murdered in that house. Raging hormones & bitchiness filled the air like a layer of LA smog. Now multiply that by a thousand, and make them all run until delirium with the promise of Tiffanys and hot men in tuxedos. It really doesn’t sound like such a good idea anymore, does it?
Stay tuned for Sarah Soon-To-Be’s lessons on carboloading and how I survived (and PR’d!) the race with one ‘broken’ shin, a bitchy old knee, and a seriously unstable mental state. Oh and, the unveil of my race outfit & unexpected running partner.
I also promise there will be no more NWM bashing, because… well, by now you’ve heard it all. Nike’s like a bad boyfriend that treats you like shit, but he buys you jewelry and chocolate so he seems oh so wonderful.
Night y’all, this old lady’s got 173 body parts to ice.