All about the 25K

You'd think a taper meant I would sleep in today, right? Not so much.

In this sort -of-responsible board position, I feel a bit of an obligation to participate even if I'm not racing. Which I wasn't despite the advice of some very supportive friends who thought I could reach some other goals today. November, however, is about my San Antonio Marathon, not the Fall Series, not the CHM, just San Antonio. And volunteering!

You know me, I looked for a groovy-cool, low-maintenance, fishing early kind of a volunteer spot. Bill agreed and gave me the mile five pace-calling position, which was even more odd than you can imagine. The pace-calling is simple enough- you just wind up blabbing numbers for about an hour. So the 5-mile mark rests atop the Memorial Drive bridge, just as the hill crests and heads to the Wortham. The odd part was just as the front runners passed, I felt that same weird swaying that you feel when driving on the Pierce Elevated. A fluke, I rationalized. Maybe a truck just vibrated the bejeezus out of the course.

Not so. The strides of every 130 lb runners jostled the bridge in a disturbing manner-- I didn't think I was going to make it! As the crowd became less sparse, it intensified. I had to SIT lest I barf on my pace sheet. Very odd indeed.

After my timing duties ended, I headed to watch the finishers and then for my "tent" on the plaza. A very relaxed day if you don't run 15 miles, I must say! I shoved my wares back into the backpack ad pedaled home.

The post-race party was delightful, featuring Wurstfest-style fare and hungry runners. A bagged on the soccer game for a much-needed nap. Cross country practice starts tomorrow, after all, so my days are about to get a couple of hours longer.