It IS all about me.

The San Antonio Rock-n-Roll half marathon was Sunday, and to my joy a friend announced that she was pregnant and dropped from the full to the half marathon. I'm absolutely happy for her and her husband and that lucky baby, but I'm pretty sure the whole thing is about me and my need for a running partner. A week before the race I realized that I didn't know anyone running anything like my pace and imagined myself jogging alone amongst the crowd, lonely tears pouring down my face as I passed the Fat Elvises rocking-and-rolling at the mile markers. I'm pretty sure there's a French silent film about that.

So I got me a buddy and what a buddy she was - when my optimistic estimated pace ended up being a big fat lie she didn't complain, and when I accidentally body checked a girl at the finish line she didn't judge me. That girl STOPPED JUST BEFORE THE FINISH LINE and totally deserved to be slammed by my shoulder - I couldn't get around her in time.

I'm still East Coast enough to laugh a little and know that she deserved it - I'll bet she cost me the :48 in my 2:10:47 time! Who stops before the finish line? Why does that random girl hate me so much? In fact, she should just be thankful I didn't get even and shove her again like a good East Coast girl - I guess Texas has been good for me. And luckily for her I'm not Texan enough to shoot her.