First things first, I am no professional runner but I like to do things properly and prepare for each race. For the Santa Dash my day-before-race preparation started with VERY good intentions. Red and I did a bit of hot yoga and aligned our shakras or whatever they call it, and flexed our way to supreme levels of suppleness. Or she did. I can barely cross my legs. I sweated for an hour and looked like a misshapen pretzel.
We intended on having a nice early dinner and calling it a night without much fuss.
And then we saw the cocktail list at Artisan Bar. All bets were most definitely off. After a few very tasty selections the decision was made to drink the entire list.
Anyway, back to the race. After about 5 hours sleep, I was up at 6am to make my way over to Liverpool where I was relieved to see that not everyone was taking it entirely seriously.
In fact, this guy wasn’t even the least appropriately dressed. I saw girls tottering in 4 inch heels on the course. Suffice to say that it wasn’t much of a race in the truest sense.
It was heavily congested and we barely got a clear shot at actual sustained running. Still, a shitload of Santas turned up. Hopefully enough to take the world title from Las Vegas. We won’t find out until this Saturday though.
At least it was a good way to kick off the festive season with The Husband. Take a good look at the santa suit I’m wearing here. I’m not saving it on account of how ill fitting and uncomfortable it was. Never fear though – I’ve got the perfect yule-inspired outfit for the Christmas 10K this weekend…