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Crushing the Finish Line (one way or another)

This past weekend Dave-O and I did Cincy’s Race for the Cure. It was kinda emotional for me, as it was my high-freaking–5-year anniversary of my first Race for the Cure, not to mention first 5K, ever—2 weeks after my mastectomy/cancerversary—5 years ago.

Dave and I at the finish line. Barely. By the time I made it across they were already taking everything down. The finish line was deflated. Which only made it that much easier for me to CRUSH IT, lol.
Dave and I at the finish line of the 2008 Cincy Race for the Cure.. Barely. By the time I made it across they were already taking everything down and putting it away. The finish line was literally, as you can see, deflated. Which only made it that much easier for me to  CRUSH IT, lol.

I don’t exactly have a picture of our finish this year because I forgot.

I forgot a lot of things actually. Like to remember to go under the survivor finish line, for one. Oops. So much for that kodak moment. But thanks to our dear friend, Jim Wimmers, for snapping this cool pic of us racing to the finish.

Here’s Dave and I racing to the finish. I was so busy racing Dave that I forgot to veer left and cross the survivor finish line.
Here's me (Note: ahead of Dave) running my butt off but toward the wrong finish line. And there's Dave clearly, though it's clear to late, pointing me to the survivor finish.
That’s me, the pink blur just outside the survivor finish line. And there’s Dave (behind me) clearly (but clearly, too  late) pointing me in the right direction.

Pretty much a metaphor for my life. Sa la freaking vie. When you’re me, at least, lol.

Anyway, besides that anticlimactic moment of crossing the survivor finish line, Dave and I actually both had a pretty good run.

My time was 54:18, which is a better 10K than I’d ever hoped for, especially downtown Cincinnati. My goal’s generally to finish, rather than race. Dave-O, however, used to be a runner (cross-country) in the old days of our youth. Now that he’s got his running groove back, I have a hard time keeping pace with him. Even though he generally lets me cross the finish line first. But I think it’s just because he feels like somebody’s gotta keep an eye on me since I tend to wander off racing squirrels. Whatever.

The real question is: How in the wide world of sports does it happen that when we both run the same distance, Dave earn a whole freaking, not to mention, decadent, slice of death by chocolate cake, while I run my freaking butt off, only to chalk up enough points for one Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup? Not that I’m counting calories or anything, in case you’re worried about me—Don’t. It’s just the principle of the thing. Dave says he works harder than me, simply because he’s bigger, but…au freaking contraire… I totally count 2-3 of my strides per every one of his. Doesn’t seem fair. But, it kinda forces me to share my Reese’s and I guess that’s not the worst thing in the world.

Anyway. We both ending up coming in 6th for our old age groups, which is aka half a dozen to awesome.

Coincidentally, according to the stats, my time ranked me the 7th placed survivor. But, if you think about it, I was probs the first one to cross the WRONG finish line. So that’s saying something. Not sure what, exactly. But yeah.

So here’s a little video I made of the race:

Thanks to my friends Patty Stump & Mike Shroder for letting us run the 10K representing their Team CANcervive, and to my friend Josie and all of team Josie’s Posse for letting us hang with them on the 5K. Beautiful day with beautiful peeps. Can’t ask for much more.

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