Bandito! Jerkito!

Dear God-

I did 2 things today that I'm not proud of.

Bad thing #1: I bandited a local 1/2 marathon race.

I will say that I have paid my 50 bucks for this race before. That year it rained from the get-go and was a windy 40 something degree death chug. The volunteers left their posts, leaving us to twist about in the wind with only the rain to hydrate us for miles at a time. The post race bagels were soggy and the t-shirts sucked, too. So I felt justified the following year when I bandited it.

Today I feel a twinge of guilt. Me and the kid (see previous posts) didn't use their port-o-lets and we started behind all those gathered and we ran along the sidewalks, out of the way BUT we did STEAL WATER at 4 stops.

I wanted to run an MP thing and the kid has a marathon next Sunday. I guess the long and short of it is that I wanted a chance to attempt an extended MP run and practice some dixie cup drills and run along with other folks but I wanted the option of bailing without feeling that I DNF'ed if I couldn't get my left ass to move as a willing accomplice.

Me and the kid had a nice run and talked all the while, We agreed to keep the pace around 7:45 which we did until mile 8.

Bad thing #2: I put the screws to a fellow coach.

Around mile 8 I recognized a fellow cross country coach from a rival school. He seemed to be suffering and I sort of wanted to add to his discomfort as payback for the swagger he displayed earlier this year when we met at our opening meet.

He: "Oh, I guess I have about 40 girls on our team, It's kind of hard to keep up with all of them". . (here I am standing with my squad of 12 or so that I busted my ass to recruit, over half of them are wearing donated shoes or shirts or shorts or they would be wearing God knows what.)

Me: "That's nice..(turning to my team),Hey! Rhonda!, put that cigarette down!"

His kids have names like "Celeste or Meeeeegan" and mine have worker names like "Vicky" or something.

Well, Coach Cushy, the coach of ghetto high with the numb left ass cheek(me) is not going to waste this opportunity. I called on all my right ass cheek power and squeezed down to the 7:15 range with him in tow. I talked the whole while about mundane stuff and posed a series of questions that would require thoughtful and extended answers from Coach Cush. He developed a side stitch and I talked him through it like a jerk. He would fade and drop off and I'd double back and put him back on my shoulder like a jerk. I'd tell him where the mile markers and water stops were and encouraged him like a jerk. Basically all the things that anyone has ever done or said to me in a race when I felt like crap and they were just trying to help, I did to this poor guy. . . and to cap it off, I said "it's good for us to race every now and then so we can appreciate the things we are asking our kids to do during their races". That got me no response.

I pulled him to the 12.5 mark and took off for the last 1/2 mile on my own. He is actually a very nice young man. At 24, I'm nearly twice his age. My guess is that he won't have a clue that I harbored any resentment toward his whimsical comments about his talented/filled to capacity team in front of my sweathogs earlier this year. Maybe he's too young to appreciate the the program he inherited at that school and too young to ever consider that his Dad (me) could ever talk him through 5 miles of a foot race.

Every bony old dog has his day, Coach Cush. You would probably kill me at any other distance.

So forgive me mister race director, I will pay my entry fee next year even if I have to start with the walkers.

And forgive me Coach Cush. Just show my scrappy, small, under- funded, girls team a little more respect next season.