Mayor Fenty likes bananas.
In my last post I mentioned how I was joining a new gym called MINT. Well, I did, and it's fantabulous. I want to live there. Their showers are way better than mine, and that means I try to shower there whenever I work out. It's great, cause then I don't have to wash as many towels or use my own shampoo and stuff! Score! I realize that it is very odd for someone to go on and on about how great their gym is, but it REALLY is great! If MINT were a person, it would be a really hot guy who was trendy, who dressed well, but wasn't a snob, and who was really laid-back, cool and smart... and we'd totally make out. Then, we'd have a smoothie.
In other news...
I met up with my friend, Susan, on Friday night, and we went out to a bar in Arlington, VA-- Dr. Dremos. It was a cool place. Kinda dive-y, but comfortable-- it had couches and armchairs, and a bunch of pool tables. We downed a pitcher a piece, and in the middle of all that, one of the oddest things to ever happen to me at a bar occurred... While Susan and I were chatting away, this random guy comes up to me with a camera and sits next to me on the couch to take a picture of me and him. I was a little unsure of what to do, since it was so unexpected, so when he asked to take the picture, I tried to get Susan to be in it, too. Instead of agreeing to that, or helping me get out of the mess I was in, Susan instead offers to take the picture of me and random guy. Thanks, A LOT, Susan! Now I'm totally on some college kid's Myspace page. I made sure it was a good picture, though. No half-closed eyes or boogers peeking out from nostrils. Once the pic was taken, the guy left just as quick as he came over. Never asked me my name, or told me his. I barely even got a look at him. I'm wondering what the goal was for him that night... see how many girls he could get a picture with? Beats the hell outta me.
This morning was the Sallie Mae 10K. It was all I could do to get my ass out of bed at 6:30am. I SO did not want to go. But, of course, I did. People were serious at this race. Well, at least the pack I was in was serious. I could hear panting the whole time. Nutso. I had my nifty GPS tracking watch on, so I know that my pace averaged about 7:20/mile, but I forgot to hit the stop button once I crossed the Finish line, so I don't know my overall time. I've also been waiting all day for them to post the results on runwashington.com, but the fools haven't put the times up yet!! What's the freaking hold up? I've never ran a race where the times weren't up by the afternoon.
Update: The results are finally in. You can check out this link if you want to search for me in the Sallie Mae race. I'll help you out. I'm 30th of all 666 women, or 8th of 184 if you search by age group. 7:26 mi pace. 46:06 for the whole 6.2 miles. I guess i'm pretty fast. :)
Near the beginning of the race, this jackass douchebag who was running near me decided to spit while he was right next to me. It seriously pissed me off. There is nothing I hate more than lack of running etiquette-- especially in a race. So, mainly because running makes me more competitive and insane (and also due to the loads of adrenaline), I then decided to move closer to the spitting idiot (in an obvious way), spit in his direction, and then take off and leave him in my dust. I think I may have also uttered, "motherfucker," under my breath, but I can't be sure of anything that happens during a race; nor can I be held responsible for my actions.
I don't know if the people running this race just don't train hard enough or what, but the amount of heavy breathing I heard around me was enough to make me puke. This one guy in the home stretch was SO annoying that I pushed myself into a sprint harder than I would have on my own, just so I wouldn't have to hear his gasping disgustingness anymore. Yeah, I kicked his ass. :)
After the race, I was walking to my car with granola bar, yogurt, orange, apple, banana, and water bottle in hand(s), and I saw Mayor Fenty chilling by himself next to a fence, eating a banana. Yes, he ran the race, and I hear he's pretty fast. I was staring at him, and I figured it was best not to yell, "Hey, Mayor Fenty! Good race!" because he probably would've made some secret gesture to the security team that I didn't see, and then my post-race noshings would have flown all over the place as they took me down. The last thing I needed was a mushed banana on my ass and a face-full of blueberry yogurt, so I chose silence over spectacle.
In other news...
I met up with my friend, Susan, on Friday night, and we went out to a bar in Arlington, VA-- Dr. Dremos. It was a cool place. Kinda dive-y, but comfortable-- it had couches and armchairs, and a bunch of pool tables. We downed a pitcher a piece, and in the middle of all that, one of the oddest things to ever happen to me at a bar occurred... While Susan and I were chatting away, this random guy comes up to me with a camera and sits next to me on the couch to take a picture of me and him. I was a little unsure of what to do, since it was so unexpected, so when he asked to take the picture, I tried to get Susan to be in it, too. Instead of agreeing to that, or helping me get out of the mess I was in, Susan instead offers to take the picture of me and random guy. Thanks, A LOT, Susan! Now I'm totally on some college kid's Myspace page. I made sure it was a good picture, though. No half-closed eyes or boogers peeking out from nostrils. Once the pic was taken, the guy left just as quick as he came over. Never asked me my name, or told me his. I barely even got a look at him. I'm wondering what the goal was for him that night... see how many girls he could get a picture with? Beats the hell outta me.
This morning was the Sallie Mae 10K. It was all I could do to get my ass out of bed at 6:30am. I SO did not want to go. But, of course, I did. People were serious at this race. Well, at least the pack I was in was serious. I could hear panting the whole time. Nutso. I had my nifty GPS tracking watch on, so I know that my pace averaged about 7:20/mile, but I forgot to hit the stop button once I crossed the Finish line, so I don't know my overall time. I've also been waiting all day for them to post the results on runwashington.com, but the fools haven't put the times up yet!! What's the freaking hold up? I've never ran a race where the times weren't up by the afternoon.
Update: The results are finally in. You can check out this link if you want to search for me in the Sallie Mae race. I'll help you out. I'm 30th of all 666 women, or 8th of 184 if you search by age group. 7:26 mi pace. 46:06 for the whole 6.2 miles. I guess i'm pretty fast. :)
Near the beginning of the race, this jackass douchebag who was running near me decided to spit while he was right next to me. It seriously pissed me off. There is nothing I hate more than lack of running etiquette-- especially in a race. So, mainly because running makes me more competitive and insane (and also due to the loads of adrenaline), I then decided to move closer to the spitting idiot (in an obvious way), spit in his direction, and then take off and leave him in my dust. I think I may have also uttered, "motherfucker," under my breath, but I can't be sure of anything that happens during a race; nor can I be held responsible for my actions.
I don't know if the people running this race just don't train hard enough or what, but the amount of heavy breathing I heard around me was enough to make me puke. This one guy in the home stretch was SO annoying that I pushed myself into a sprint harder than I would have on my own, just so I wouldn't have to hear his gasping disgustingness anymore. Yeah, I kicked his ass. :)
After the race, I was walking to my car with granola bar, yogurt, orange, apple, banana, and water bottle in hand(s), and I saw Mayor Fenty chilling by himself next to a fence, eating a banana. Yes, he ran the race, and I hear he's pretty fast. I was staring at him, and I figured it was best not to yell, "Hey, Mayor Fenty! Good race!" because he probably would've made some secret gesture to the security team that I didn't see, and then my post-race noshings would have flown all over the place as they took me down. The last thing I needed was a mushed banana on my ass and a face-full of blueberry yogurt, so I chose silence over spectacle.