Imma Let You Finish that 10 Miler

I recently took a step up from running the standard 5k to a more taxing 10k. The 10k, known as the Lawyers Have a Heart (aptly named? Bringing out the competitive nature of the DC law community – the race pits summer interns against paralegals in a fight to demonstrate who has the stronger cardiovascular system), was a complete culture shock. This weekend, I’m taking it to the next level and am running in the Army 10 Miler. In an attempt to better assimilate with the running crowd, I’m taking some extra precautions for the 10 Miler.

Lessons learned from the Lawyers Have a Heart 10k:

1. Custom: Apparently it is customary to be well hydrated before the race. It’s blasphemous to not use the public restroom facilities to demonstrate having properly over-hydrated. The line wrapped around the entire Georgetown waterfront and was literally thousands of lawyers long. Faux pas: No matter how much I wanted to participate in the camaraderie, I couldn’t bring myself to stand in line. Or maybe I just got stage fright. Corrective Action: I plan to purchase a 7-Eleven Big Gulp on my way to the race.

2. Custom: Most races are designed such that there comes a time when the frontrunners are heading inbound past the stragglers still headed outbound. At this point, it is tradition to audibly acknowledge their superiority while they speed past with no regard for these cat calls. Word choice is at the discretion of the runner. For example, the lady next to me simply yelled “Lady” every time a female passed. I’ve decided she was either sexist or keeping track of her position in the race, which couldn’t be good if she was running next to me. In summary, you’re either a frontrunner and silent or your slow and heckle. Faux pas: I picked slow and silent; mixing and matching is not permitted. Corrective Action: When I’m on the running trail, I’ve been practicing by cat calling and grunting to fellow runners as they approach. Based on their posturing, I don’t think they appreciate it.

Knowing my fortune, I’ll probably show up to the Army 10 Miler having mastered the culture of the 10K and find myself awash in a transoceanic culture, in which case, I hope at least someone will throw me a paddle.

Roller Coasters and Rattletraps

My friend Ellen has an obsession with Kings Dominion, an amusement park approximately 90 miles south of Washington. I also love amusement parks, and having fruitlessly tried to cajole my friends into going in on $10 Six Flags tickets, I was excited to have a partner in crime. Luckily for me, my employer graciously rented out the park two days before her birthday.

As the day approached, Ellen and I began acting like kids in a candy shop, GEICOed out with our googly eyes, preparing for our peregrination. I had asked Ellen to do some reconnaissance and map out a course across the park so we could optimize our efficiency.

We were some of the first to arrive at the park, and successfully navigated the labyrinth of Kings Dominion by lunchtime. I quickly ranked my roller coaster preference and cut from afternoon-contention all three wooden coasters. The verbs roll and coast do not appropriately describe the jerky travail and tribulation of these rattletraps.

After a hearty all-you-can-eat buffet, we decided to ride the ferris wheel before trying our luck on a stomach-turner. Apparently, great minds think alike, so avoiding the long line for the wheel, we tried our luck on the carousel. I tried to mask my identity while waiting in line, so nobody from my office would recognize me and question why a group of mature young professionals were riding the merry-go-round. Although the carousel can be far more aggressive than I thought, spotting a boy who thought he was riding a bucking bronco vice a character from My Little Pony.

Having overexerted ourselves in the park, we made our way home all tuckered out. I guess I’m officially an amusement park highbrow. Getting to ride the same roller coaster twice in a row because there is nobody in line? Don’t mind if I do.