Just a little bit of guns & dresses

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

The Freaking Half Marathon from Hell

Last Saturday I did the Kiawah Half Marathon. It was amazing. It was hellacious. I'd like to say I ran it. I did not. I started out walking. Not sure what you would call how I ended it. All I know is that I felt like I had just survived a combination of Naked and afraid, The biggest Loser and being left in the movie WILD for days upon days with no food or water fending for my life. I know this sounds dramatic. BUT THIS SHIZ IS REAL. All you runner people- INSANITY. I will give you a play by play. I woke up Saturday with intentions to stay in bed if it was raining. I woke up at 4:27 am and it was raining. My dumb self decided to get out of bed and head to my friends house that was attempting this with me. We got to Kiawah unreasonably early so I sat in the car and let my anxiety climax to its upper levels. Finally at 6:25am I decided we should heard with the other cattle to the buses that were delivering us to our destiny. We made it to packet pick up and about 1 million other people were there doing their race warm ups and stretching. Once in this building I realized I was unlike the others... I saw lots of lu lu and running shorts. Racing hats and belts. Fancy shoes, goo and whatever that tape stretchy stuff is people put on their legs. Maybe I should have eaten breakfast. Maybe I should have stretched. MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE FREAKING TRAINED. Alas destiny awaited. We made our way to the starting line. It was a lovely 42 degrees. Awesome. Once again, I was feeling a little(lot) out of place with all of these fit professionals. Crud. Is it too late to bag this? Then the race started. I'm not sure what I thought would happen, but I definitely thought it was going to be a little different. I started out fairly well. Mile 1 was my best... I should've known things were headed south when the bike paramedic suggested I try to keep a quicker pace.. Thanks. Obvi I am not Usain Bolt. All was well the first mile in. After the first drink station I kind of realized it seemed a little quiet. I looked behind me. NO ONE. NOT ONE SOUL. Ok Sarah its ok. You need some alone time anyways.. Everyone behind you is resting or took a wrong turn. Several times throughout the race I actually did think I took a wrong turn because there was NOBODY. No fear. I let a few minutes pass before I looked behind again. Next thing I knew I felt like something was behind me. I turned around and there was the police Tahoe with its blue lights flashing. Well that's nice that they are keeping us safe. After a few minutes I realized that the police man was the end of the race. I was last. DEAD last. like no other soul around. He was like 2 feet behind me just inching along. Well that's funny. Next time I looked- about 15 cars were creeping along behind him(one was even honking). These poor people just wanting to get home, but Sarah Usain Bolt was not moving quickly apparently. This was just the beginning for me. At mile 5 I wandered a little bit to the middle of my lane and my noise cancelling beats drowned out the sound of the quickly approaching bus. Yes- a bus. I literally barely missed getting my ass hit by a freaking bus during the marathon. But, lucky for me there were no actual humans on the premises to witness this or come to my aid had the said bus side swiped me. Another highlight was that by the time I got to certain landmarks all of the spectators had moved on so all I saw were cups and posters strewn upon the ground. Lets go Sarah.. I have to say that miles 1-6 weren't so bad. 7 was like when you accidently walk behind the car and hit your shin on the trailer hitch. You cuss and it sucks, but you walk it off. Mile 8 was the start of my demise. At mile 8 my phone started getting texts one after the other. I began to realize that everyone I knew that was doing the race had finished. FREAKING FINISHED. I still had 5 flipping miles. OMG how was this possible. I started toying with the idea of calling an Uber. Or just sitting down. My legs were killing. My feet were wanting to fall off. I couldn't make eye contact with any water station people because I was scared I would just burst out crying. At mile 9 I used a lifeline and I phoned a friend. By the grace of God Anne had come to watch me finish and drive me home because I knew I would want to die. She talked me through mile 9 and probably off a ledge. By mile 10 I was praying that God would just zap me off of this course and this dreaded island. There was no way I was going to make it 3 more miles. My pace had more than doubled and I was literally just putting 1 foot in front of the other. At this point I had caught the full marathon runners. Just kidding. They had lapped me several times. We had bonded. Especially since they had passed me so many times. Crazy people running 26 miles. No thank you. By mile 11 I thought I was on the verge of death. I am sure I looked like a horrible and slow hot mess express every time I meandered to a water station. Miles 11 and 12 were the longest miles of my life. I stopped at one point and just took my shoes off. I almost didn't have the energy to put them back on. When we were on the golf course sidewalk I just about walked straight across the green. AGONY. By the time I was finishing mile 12 people were telling me how close I was. Well, that did not help me so much... I must have asked every single soul I passed if this *&^%*&^% race was almost over. I'm sure I terrified people, but I was a hot mess. When I saw Mile 13 I thought my legs were going to break off. I had already lost my mind. Why not some body parts? Finally after what felt like days I heard the spectators at the finish line. I had imagined that this moment would be glorious. I would feel inspired. I would increase my pace and lengthen my stride. Start running. Cross that finish line at a jog with the crowd cheering. Not so much. I slowly made it down to the finish feeling every step. Every part I forgot to put Body Glide. Barely looking up accept to see my friends at the finish. Was scared to actually make I contact for fear of mental breakdown. I told myself to run, but that did not happen... Finished. All in all I am glad I did it. But I am pretty sure I got last place (fact and proud of it..) And I am pretty sure I am not doing that again... Peace out my friends. Thanks for the support 0.0 I don't run

Monday, July 24, 2017

Worst 19 minutes of my life

It was Friday night. At Cinnebare. I was awaiting to see Dunkirk. With a stroke of bad luck, I made it to the 7 pm movie well ahead of everyone else. Which means I had the horrible task of saving 6 seats. Kill me now. I was going with the Wagners which usually means Tobey is there well ahead of time. Well, I wasn't so lucky Friday night. So I got in there and things were pretty good. Most of the upper seating was taken so I claimed 6 seats on the first flat row. Was feeling pretty good about my selection. I thought I was safe. All of a sudden around 6:40, civilians started pouring in. One after another. At first some were nice while asking if I had ALL of those seats. (I mean 6 is not that many. You would have thought I had 23 seats saved). As the minutes inched along, I began to feel some tension in the air. Clouds of hostility floating my way. I trid not to make eye contact. I really wanted to lift up the arm rests and just lay across all of the seats. At least 10 people tried to sit in my seats. I was proactive by getting there early. Why did I feel like Cruella De Ville? Like I was shunning the public. Like I was the worst person in the world. My anxiety was majorly on the rise. At 6:49 a British lady came at me. Told me I was ridiculous (in her ridiculous accent) to save seats. I almost backed down, but I had a duty to do so I told her to push on (maybe not in those words). So many people just made a dash for it and sat down, ergo I had to tell them to roll out. Worst feeling ever. I was staring at the walk way praying one of my people would walk in. I felt like everyone was watching me to see if I actually had people coming. The theatre was filling up and I felt like my seats were sitting ducks ready to be taken. Just as I was about to sweat through my shirt, in they come. Praise the Lord! I think it took a solid 30 minutes and chicken fingers to bring my anxiety back to its resting level. If you want to feel terrible about yourself, just go to a Friday night movie and save seats. You're welcome.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

My Boys

This post is a long time coming. Most of you know that I have been lucky enough to do Young Life since 2003. It's been a long time. YL has taken me many, many places, but one of my favorite and most unexpected places has been Porter Gaud. I know, I even surprise myself sometimes. Last place I ever imagined this Wando Warrior was chasing a pack of boys at PG. Well, every now and again a blind squirrel finds a nut. In my case, I was lucky enough to find several nuts. It makes me cry just thinking about my nuts. Ok, bad wording there.
(Here are some of the nuts) Somehow, in 2012 I met a pack of some of my most favorite people. Porter Gaud freshmen boys. Yes. You read that right. I made friends with my best friend, which led me to becoming friends with her son. And then his friends. I've been around high schoolers enough to decipher who is the real deal or not. These boys are the real deal. I never thought I'd be 31, single, and have a pack of recently graduated boys. THANK GOD I DO. They have brought me some of my most favorite memories. We have had many crappy meals at Andos, hundreds of car rides, hilarious and crazy conversations in the Jones living room and very competitive Xbox games which could have led to severed friendships... haha. Heck, some of them even let me take them on a trip and accompany them on a cruise... I also got lucky enough to meet them for breakfast the first day of school all of high school. Here are some pics
It's hard to explain, but I feel like they are my brothers. I am sensitive, therefore, I have been dreading graduation since freshmen year (ask Anne.. ). Most of the moms thought I was crazy, but alas, they will be sad too come August. Since 9th grade, I knew that they would leave us. Granted- they should. Things would be much worse if they graduated and had no where to go.. But, I have been dreading graduation for a few reasons. The obvious one is that they are leaving me. Geographically speaking. That means no more Andos or Chick Fil A. No more crashing the Jones house to find 10 cars horribly parked outside and hearing them scream at each other over College football or Rocket League. Sadly, the times are changing. Don't get me wrong, I am glad they are all getting to go where they want to. I'm just sad I won't be with them:( Also, it means they are getting older. I don't like change so this one is hard for me. I loved the days when they were dorks and couldn't drive. They needed our help and in exchange we got to hear all of their ridiculous conversations. Now, they mostly drive cooler cars than me and come home when I'm well into my REM sleep cycle. I'm sad I won't be with them on move in day, or to rag them as they walk to class. To sum it up, I am sad. But, I am Proud. Proud of the boys/mini men they are becoming. Proud of the friends they are to each other and the friends they are to me. Boys- I'll miss you. You better not forget me and still answer my calls. No college is too far for a first day of school breakfast:) or a beat down when you need it. I am also thankful to have gotten to spend so much time with these guys. Love you long time.