So here's a funny story. Patrick and I spent all this time coordinating a trip down to Charleston to run in the Cooper River 10k. Not only did we register and pay the fees, but we sort of trained for it too. Since the race was on Saturday, we started the 5 hour trek south on Friday night, after Patrick got off work. Not the best scenario, but he couldn't take off so it's what we had to work with.
Saturday morning rolls around, and our first alarm, set for 5:30, doesn't go off. Or it does and one of us turns it off in our sleep... because next thing we know is that we are waking up to our back-up alarm at 6 am. It was our plan to leave by 6:15. Pat's reaction to this was "let's blow it off and stay in bed." But after 8 minutes of going back and forth, we were out of bed and rushing around to get out the door. No time to feed the baby, barely enough time to tie our shoes (I had to tie mine in the car). And we were off, feeling better about ourselves for overcoming our laziness.
We arrive at our family friend's home where we are parking our car (about 100 yards from the starting line), we hop out and we are feeling energized, and are almost motivated enough to enjoy a warm-up jog. We get to the corrals and are slightly overwhelmed so we ask a race official politely "Where do we check in?" and his response was "You don't".
Upon closer examination, it turns out that race day registration for over 40,000 people is somewhat of a logistical nightmare. Which makes sense. Wish I had thought of that before race day though. Apparently we were to have had our race packets mailed to us, or we were supposed to pick them up the day before at an auditorium in downtown Charleston.
I have no idea why I wouldn't have chosen to have our packets mailed knowing that we couldn't pick them up a day early. Who knows where my brain was the day I registered. It certainly wasn't in my head. Thanks a lot, Gunnar, for stealing all of my common sense and reasoning capabilities. You win.
But you're cute, so it's okay.
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