Okay, okay, I didn't so much "run" as "not die" but considering that my bucket list consists of things like "Drink out of a chocolate river, Augustus Gloop style" you should be impressed. I didn't even come in last.
And I have proof that I finished! See?
The most unflattering picture of me, ever, crossing the... what the??? The START line? Dang it!
David was a nice boy and agreed to stay with me for the entire race even though I know he wanted to run faster. He even tried to keep me going with some talk about hard things being good for us until I told him to quit being so inspirational.
Honestly, I thought I would be able to run more than I did, but I had a rude awakening when I discovered that my treadmill had not adequately prepared me for a race that was 50% uphill. My marathoner brother and sister-in-law kept trying to make me feel better by telling me it was a really tough course, but that's just because they are nice people. Also because I leave chocolate mints on their pillows when they come to visit.
But, the fact remains, I did it. I survived. I not only ran in an actual race, I ran in a race where missionaries handed out water cups and a bagpiper serenaded us from atop a hillside. How many of you can say that?
Plus, I only limped around like an old lady for two days afterward and now I have a really cool medal that I can
Hmmm. Come to think of it, why did I do this again?