This year's JP Morgan Corporate Challenge was the best yet. Note to self, travel with the George Positioning System every chance you get. He knows where it's at, indeed where everything is at in the Bay Area. He worked as a tour guide.
It was the coldest race I've ever attended. Fog was low over the Golden Gate Bridge, and a chill wind whipped across Chrissy Field. Runners were huddled on the leeward side of the few structures on the field, like sheep hiding behind hedges.
We shuddered and hopped around and made jokes about the people handing out the free iced coffee and free iced fruit drinks. Yeah, right. Someone passing out hot apple cider would have needed a riot squad for protection.
Finally, we were told that the race was about to start. We lined up and faceless amplified voices boomed out warmup instructions. Then there were speeches and more speeches, and some reporter also talked, but I don't watch TV, so I didn't recognize her voice. It would have been nice if they'd changed the order and did the speeches first, then the warmup, because we were cooling down but at least massed together, penguin-runners on the ice floe.
Then we were off! Okay, the front of the pack was off. A minute or so later my part of the flock began to shuffle forward in the way harried commuters shuffle into crowded trains, elbows in, careful steps, trying not to bump each other. Eight thousand feet trying to find room to run.
I ran for a while and didn't see anyone I recognized until I saw Danette just ahead. "Ah," I said, "If I can keep pace with her, that will get me through the race with a reasonable time."
So I ran and ran, and I wondered about the people on their cell phones while they were running this race. What's with that? "Hello? Oh hi... Nothing much, just running a race. Sure I'll pick up some takeout on the way home. Watchu uptwo?"
Then I paused in my wondering and noticed that I couldn't see Danette anywhere. I was pretty sure I hadn't passed her.
Oh well, the die is cast, we must struggle valiantly on. It's been a while now, and I began to wonder how much further we had to go. And then I saw Robin up ahead. I figured, "Aha, I'll keep pace with her and get a not-so-pathetic time." But again, while bemusedly wondering about the carbon consumption involved in getting all these people in one place at one time to run around in a big -- well, it's not a circle really, more like a beat-up triangle -- I lost track of Robin and I was very sure I'd not passed her.
This was getting embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as my stupid idea of hiring my son to be a trainer in preparing for this race. The idea was that he'd run with me as training. Well, he has his own training regimen, it's called "oversleeping". By staying in bed as long as possible, plus three to five minutes, he has to get to school in a hurry. Normally this would mean walking, but since he uses "oversleeping" as his training regimen, he has to run the entire way. With his backpack.
So now he's a much better runner than his old man, and he has the patience of youth, which is to say "none". Our training sessions amount to: we start out running. He gains a Gignormous Lead. I meet him at the turnaround point, feet sore and winded and he's totally relaxed and razzing me.
That's when I notice Shant. Surely I can keep pace with Shant, I figure. So I run and run, and then I realize that I can't see Shant anymore either. Dang, maybe I should consider taking up his training regimen. What was that bar he mentioned the other day?
So I run and run, and I can see the finish line coming up, but it's looking awful quiet; people usually hang around at the end of the race but today I guess the extra cold and extra damp darkness is driving people home early, or so I hope. And just as I'm about to cross the finish line I notice that there's quite a racket behind me. I'm not alone!
I turn around and there a bunch of men are carrying the bright blue porta-potties away on these huge dollies coming up behind me. I'm thinking wow, that must take a lot of skill, to run this course with those porta-potties on dollies. What if it tipped over?
So I finished the race, barely beating out the guys with the blue porta-potties. Later I found out that something that cheered me up after what had been an otherwise rather depressing performance:
I beat Ignatius' time.
