There are highs.

My state of mind defies explanation these days.  It is alarmingly simplistic to suggest that there are highs and lows, though there are.  The highs are sometimes in the same place as the lows: tears that are about pain that is born from loving.  The lows come maybe when you think there will be highs to distract you.  Either way, the fact remains that there are highs, and I sing about that.

Run for the Ranch was miserably cold and windy, but it was super fun and full of memory-making because of the people involved.  I'll mostly let the pictures do the talking.

We left at 6:45 in the morning and stopped at Hardees (somewhere in North Arkansas!) for breakfast.  We ate and then had some photo ops.

Carrie can't seem to get her eyes on the camera, though.  In the jukebox one I was pretty sure she was looking out the window for dudes.



Once we got to Springfield we had plenty of time to kill.  We got bibs and chips and shirts and stayed warm in the car until time to go back inside to get ready.  We had a maniac group shot on the steps, and then a couple of shots with Annette, Carrie, and me.

I loved on some huge dogs and leaned against one to get warm while we were waiting for the start.  He had a serious labrador lean going on, but he was much bigger than a lab.  I had dog hair all over my tights but it was totally worth it.




I thought I would warm up during the race but I was sort of wrong.  I didn't think enough of the wind and also didn't take into account that it would get dark during this race and get cooler.  I definitely should have worn my running jacket.  I would have been more comfortable.  Carrie and I entertained each other (and some other runners) with stories, singing, and a few rounds of dirty ABC game.  I find myself to be much more funny, apparently, than the people around me find me to be.  Whatever--Zero of 'em!

I didn't feel really strong at any point in the race, really.  It was probably a combination of a few things--maybe a couple too many beers the night before, not enough to eat before the race, soda before the race, cold wind, and maybe too quick of a pace starting out.  A few times I really did question my ability to finish.  We slowed down considerably for the second half and, through a combination of really bad singing and a ridiculous amount of whining and threatening to quit and announcing my hatred for marathons, we finished.

I wanted nothing more than to get warm, but the lobby area where we were sitting was not warm.  Carrie and I huddled under space blankets.  We both had warm clothes in the car just across the street, but the thought of going back outside and walking down steps was too much.  So we just sat there and suffered.





Finally, we headed out to get what I'd been singing about for hours: food and beer.  I had never been to Red Robin before--only heard the obnoxious commercials.  I thought it was a fast-food burger joint, but Arland and Annette assured me we could get beer there, so I was game.  I drank that big blue moon in the picture, two of those shots, and a pint of Mother's Three Blind Mice, a local Springfield brew.  I ate some salad.  We laughed.  Dinner and drinks post-race may have been the best part.

We piled back in the car to head home and the girls completely flaked on entertaining Arland for the drive.  I think I was asleep within minutes until I woke up at a gas station.  The clerk there acted like he wanted to card me for my scratch off tickets.  He said I looked 23 and I asked him if he wanted to get married.  He said I made his night.

My day and night were made by new friends.  The best part: we get to do it all again this weekend for the Mississippi Blues Marathon!