#11. Dallas, TX: 13.1 Miles of Misery

...I know, I'm being so morbid. But seriously, it was just fucking miserable and you'll understand why when you keep reading. What wasn't miserable about this race was the fact that I got to see and stay with my favorite newlyweds: Anna and Michael Primeaux. (Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson sucked compared to them. And they're divorced now so it's really no comparison).

Meet my attractive hosts: Anna and Michael. Yes this is a picture of a picture.

Not only was my flight to Dallas a steal of a century, it was the perfect excuse to see my boo and her mr. boo. (She doesn't call him that, I just felt inclined to right now).  Anna made her debut in my blog longgg ago when she planned on doing all the races with me; but as explained in a much earlier post as well, she came to her common sense and opted not to but DID decide to do this one in her hometown with me which made me all giddy and shit.  This was the third time I got to see my favorite mischevious boo in about a month in a half thanks to her bachelorette party, followed by her epic wedding and then this race.  Anna had to work Saturday morning when I jetsetted so I was glad to see Michael didn't forget to pick me up.  Foster the dog joined too.

So it was just me and the boys.  The car ride consisted of a lot of work talk, wedding recap, Michael tip-toeing around asking me if me and his friend were dating yet, and Michael's jaw-dropping at the length of my reverse city commute to and from work.  When I told him I typically spend 2.5 hours in the car to go a full 44 miles round-trip, Michael reminded me of the nauseating comparable drive from St. Louis to Columbia, MO taking only 1.5 hours...for 125 miles. He couldn't comprehend the daily pergatory  I put myself through...he doesn't do well with traffic, probably similar how I don't do well with olives. Or foam on hangers.

Back at their Athropologie-esque apartment filled with creams and tans, Michael had some work to wrap up and I had some trashy TV to watch while waiting for Anna.  Though Michael pities me for my brain-numbing commute, I can't say I envy him as a first year CPA who is literally always on-call for work.  I think in the hour and a half we waited for Anna, he had to log onto his work computer three different times, took a work call and his phone made some weird little noises that I'm sure was code for "do this NOW Michael, xoxo, your boss".  He did take a few breaks to show me all the tricks he's taught their dog Foster (who they also call Doodle, Uncle Schnoodle and I think just about any other name that rhymes with noodle.  Poor pup must have daily identity crises).  But let me tell you, Foster/Doodle/noodle brain has got mad skill: he sits, rolls over, high fives, twirls, fetches the remote, hand/paw shakes, and can probably play the keyboard too.  He also has THE whitest teeth I have ever seen.  Both canines and humans included.  Now, I obviously don't check out dog's grills on the reg, so that just goes to show how eye-catchingly white his chompers are; his smile nearly made me melt (kidding).  Then, there's Chauncey the cat.  Chauncey and I go wayyy back: she was my roommate senior year.  I lost the battle to my two cat-loving roomies and when the poor kitten was rescued from a hood of a car, how could I say no to providing such an innocent, harmless creature with shelter?  Well, Chauncey wasn't harmless: she was a bitch.  But a pretty cool one.  And so, we met again.  Now that she essentially suffered from the feline version of gingivitis leaving her with a mere two teeth and is declawed, she's pretty harmless and spends most of her day sun-bathing stretched out or playing her Friskie's fish game on the iPad.  (Yes, there's an app for cats.)  So let me recap Anna and Michael's pets: we've got multi-titled Foster who can do about 20% of the things humans can and Chauncey the cat who is tech-savvy enough to play on an iPad.  The only pet I've ever had was Russell the hamster, who was the biggest (well, technically smallest) 1.4lb asshole. All he could do was chew through his plastic, colorful-tubed wonderland that I so graciously provided him with and roll around in a ball filled with his own droppings and slamming into walls while doing so.  Russell just bit me and stunk up my bedroom.  I'm not bitter at all by the fact that Anna and Michael's dynamic duo pets trump my worthless furball (who is now buried in a check box in my backyard, RIP).

Anna came home (I like how I'm talking like I actually live with these lovebirds) around 12:30 and with bellies growling we scoped out some brunch.  The three of us (me being the mistress) ate a feast of veggie scramblers, breakfast burritos, homemade breads and potatoes at a restaurant that reminded me very much of the Egg Harbor Cafe in the good old Elmhurst.  Post-brunch, Anna and I rid her hubby of the ride and headed off to the Texas State Fair Grounds, home to the race expo.  Though the area the State Fair Grounds is in is questionable, Anna assured me that the last time she was there, the two gangsta teens that were circling her car on bikes didn't actually do any harm-- and trust me, no one messes with Anna. Or Texas.

Making our way across the parking lot, the multiple-month Dallas drought decided it was bored and it was time to shit a torrential downpour on us.  Anna always likes to blame these unfortunate times on karma paying her back for the time that she flicked off an entire school bus of little children.  Looking like wet Raggedy Anne's we made it into the expo center home to all the warm, dry people that beat the storm.  Anna originally wasn't planning on spending the $120 registration fee and running the race as a bandit, bib-less with me; but the atmosphere and my sweet race packet inspired her to officially register.  In the race bag, runners typically get a bunch of marketing material, postcards for other races, sample muscle lotions, mini energy bars and a race shirt.  What do you get in a Dallas, Texas race bag?  An ENTIRE box of Cliff Bars and TWO shirts: one participant and one tech finisher tee. I guess everything really is bigger in Texas.

The rest of the afternoon included curling up on Anna's couch; obsessing over Chauncey the cat; watching Michael leave for Petsmart; watching tv; obsessing over Foster the dog; obsessing over Chauncey; watching Michael return from Petsmart with Christmas pet toys (though Foster seems like he'd be more of a "Festivus for the rest of us" type of dog); stretching; ordering food; eating food; and Anna's friend Lyndey coming over to join us for a bit of our relaxing evening.  Lyndey brought over Anna's belated wedding gift of the widest array of classy kitchen containers I've ever seen.  Anna and Michael now have more wine glasses and flutes than a New Year's champagne toast; they also have EVERY small kitchen appliance you can imagine: a toaster, juicer, food processor, mixer, probably a Belgium waffle maker they have at Holiday Inn continental breakfasts, and something that looked like R2D2 on top of their cabinets.  Lyndey told us she didn't register for the half marathon, but as a natural athlete, she would join us.  Shortly after she left, Anna and Michael hit the sack and although playing middle spoon was tempting, I hit the couch.

We awoke to even more Dallas drizzle in the morning.  We layered on our race clothes for the predicted chilly temps (though I still sported my fave spandex shorts) and Michael played Nigel Barker, noted fashion photographer, shooting quick pre-race pics of his ladies (I love playing mistress.)  He told us he'd catch us around mile 3 and Anna and I set out to pick up Lyndey.  We fetched our third muskateer and slowly made our way to the race.  Dallas did not think the traffic patrolling through which did not agree with Anna's road rage.  Finally in the State Ground lot, we prepped ourselves to face the rain.  On our walk to the race, we did spot Anna's high school boyfriend. Ah, sweet nostalgia. Hey, Grant, Anna's ex.

Pre-race

We waited in what seemed like a never-ending line to use the porta-potties.  Who knew taking a shit could be so popular?  We shivered our way to the starting corrals where I was asked by a preteen where we pick up our race bibs.  I wanted to feel bad for the adolescent who was a day late, but I just couldn't and informed him with an "ummm yesterday?"  and scampered off.  The three of us somehow ended up in corral D-3 when I was supposed to start in corral A-2.  So we weaved through thousands of people, past 10 minute mile pacers, 9 minute pacers, and runners securing their iPhones in ziplock baggies shielding their lifeline from the rain.  We finally made it to the beginning of corral B which would have to do as the National Anthem commenced and fireworks went off; yes, fireworks.  In all the races I've run, I've never seen this 4th of July sky artwork before a race (evidence #2: every thing's bigger in Texas).  I'm actually surprised they didn't fly the Texas flag, because all Texans are obsessed with the Texas flag.  Anna and mine's other roommate senior year, Katty, another Dallas native, is a prime example of  having this Texas flag love affair.

And the three of us were off as the clouds above held off the rain.  We took the first mile out very modestly and then the rain ensued.  From mile two until the end, we were running in frigid rain that smacked us in the face like tiny swords of a tiny man.  Anna and I kept an eye on one another running almost side-by-side but after about mile 3 we lost sight of Lyndey.  We looked for Michael but didn't spot him.  The roads were slick and it didn't help that Dallas has streetcars that run along rail tracks through the road-- I observed this because I nearly twisted my ankle as I slipped on the cylindrical metal rod.  There is really no other way to describe this race but completely cold and miserable.  By mile 5, every positive thought had escaped my mind and I just wanted the race to be over.  Anna and I stuck together til about mile 7, where she pulled away and got ahead.  The competitive side of me tried to chase her but my legs felt like bricks and the rain seemed to push them back down every time they were lifted.  My soaked clothes clung to me, but I honestly felt worse for the women around me running in yoga pants that were clearly not water proof and weighed them down.  Actually, I felt the absolute worst for the small dog I saw tucked in a spectator's coat.  Why would you bring such a helpless creature into a Dallas tsunami?  Poor little guy.  We ran through Highland Park- a very ritzy area of Dallas lined with spectators holding signs that read "Giddyyy-Up!" and the most gorgeous mansions; I tried to appreciate their visual appeal but my mind wouldn't clear itself of how miserable and cold I was.  All I knew was that my legs were tightening, my hands were frozen, Anna was well ahead of me, I was soaking and I had a badittude.  Nearing the finish line, my vision began to blur and I assumed it was my contacts being intercepted by the raindrops smacking me in the eye.  But then I just felt like I was in complete vertigo.  I crossed the finish line, threw up per usual, and couldn't gain balance.  I was so out of it and shivering; my body wasn't warmed up at all after  the entire 1:46 run (woof, back to my old times, I thought)- it was just cold and I was so light headed.  The race directors tried to get me in a wheelchair but I resisted seeing that all I wanted was to be inside in warmth.

I teeth chattered my way into the building to redeem my medal and the post-race snacks.  Instead of just a goody bag worth of bananas and energy bars, Dallas offered a full buffet of food, even including fresh pancakes that smelled like Maple trees.  Bags of pretzels, popcorn, Lara Bars, Gatorade, waffles, chocolate milk, orange juice were all present- I'm surprised they didn't have a sushi bar.  Nothing really appeased my appetite besides one thing that caught my eye: hot chocolate. Yes, please.  It warmed my veins and I held tightly to my wet belongings to start my trek back to Anna's car.  On my way out, I noticed they had race officials with cell phones for runners to utilize if they needed to call any of their family, fans or spectators: brilliant concept.  Of all the races I've run, I've never seen this type of amenity and it really does make a whole lot of sense.  Then back out in the rain I trudged.

I had originally thought the race was the most miserable two hours of my life when little did I know, the walk back to the car would be far worse.  The State Fair Grounds are not exactly small, unless you're comparing them to China.  There were so many different parking lots and the rain continued to pellet my face as I searched for our area.  All I had as a point of reference was the Ferris Wheel and when I realized it was a good 3/4 of a mile in the distance, I knew I had a ways to go.  With no extra clothes on hand, I kept dropping my free food in puddles because I was shivering so uncontrollably.  Probably close to 25 minutes later, I reached Anna's car to find her trying to warm up in the heated vehicle and strip into warm garb.  "HOLY SHIT JENNA, THAT FUCKING SUCKED" was I'm pretty sure the first words out of Anna's mouth.  She, too, is vulgar, and if you think I despise the cold, meet Anna: she hibernates when it's like 50 degrees out.  We laughed and bitched about the terrible race and discovered she finished about 3 minutes ahead of me.  It was then I discovered that while my iPod had continued to bust out jams the entire race, not a single button of its face would work.  The rain killed my dear iPod as if it was the Wicked Witch of the West herself.  Good thing it was stuck on a favorite Christmas tune of mine: Hanson's What Christmas Means to Me. (Okay quit judging, it's feel good AND I'll proudly say that Hanson was in fact my first concert when I was 9 years old AND I owned the Hanson home video on VHS, which starred Billy Bob Thorton, which still perplexes me).  Anyways, I flashed the parking lot of SUVs as I layered on a few warm items and we waited for Lyndey.

Post-race...Foster making an appearance

Not moments later, Anna looked at her phone to discover a text from Lyndey saying she quit and just bolted home during the race.  I can't say I blame her- it WAS pure misery and we did run right by where she lives.  Plus, seeing that she wasn't even registered and was more running this for "fun" and there was nothing "fun" about this race, I've got mad props for her intelligence.  We stopped by her place on the way home to give her her keys and belongings and continued on to Anna's.  I'm pretty sure we sat in her parking garage for a good 5 minutes avoiding getting out in the car and back into the frigid air.  We shimmied our soaking bodies into her building and upon opening her apartment door, were greeted with big mugs of hot chocolate and a bar of dark chocolate (one of my faves), compliments of Michael.  Whatta gem.  I love being the third wheel and girlfriend to the married couple, especially at this moment. We warmed up with our chocolaty treat and hit the showers (separately).  Upon reviewing Michael's photography skills of the race, we soon learned that he thought two random, strange women were Anna and me.  What a bad photographer. And husband. Kidding, I love me some Michael.  (But this explains my whopping two pictures from the entire trip as seen above). I continued my crucial role as third wheel to a Greek food market where we got linner (lunch/dinner...why hasn't anyone come up with an official name like brunch yet? Linner, it is...I should copyright that.)  It was still raining.  And then it was time for me to leave the rain forest of Dallas, Texas and my favorite couple (aside from Bob and Mary Ellen, obviously).

I made a meal out of pretzels and chocolate milk at the airport because I'm clearly on Jillian Michael's diet.  A flight in complete slumber, I was home in Chicago.  I can't say Dallas was one of my favorite races (far from it), not only because of the external conditions, but also because I just lost sight about just enjoying the races and having fun with it.  So, as I prep for my race this weekend in Mobile, AL (my second to last race, HOLY SHIT!) I just need to remember my love for the "game" (if one calls running a "game") and to ignore the alligators, racists, and hillbilly's I very well may encounter.  And it's my first race flying solo-- it's go time baby. See ya when this little birdy returns from flying south.  In the meantime, DONATE: http://donate.breastcancermarathon.com/2012Marathon/JennaDunkleRuns only one more month to go! I'm SO close to my goal!!!!! Yay for self promotion. Bye.