A Triumphant Twelve

Ahhh, yesterday's run. What a momentous occasion in my mind.
I awoke with eager anticipation - a 12-mile run, something I haven't done in at least 2 years. I was pumped (literally - haha), stretched, and ready to go. I had dropped my water and packed my gu (espresso luv flavor compliments of Michael) and started out the run at the front of the pack. Oh, it was glorious. 6:00 a.m. had never felt like such a treat, even with the low clouds and high humidity, and everything was beautiful until...
We were running down the college cut-off road and noticed a figure looming in the ditch across the road. Someone called out, "Is that...?" Oh yes, it was. It was across the street and still far too close for comfort. It was a skunk, tail high and proud, looking like it was about to cross over to us for a little fun. Suddenly a car sped by and backed the little guy up, and at that point, we were past him, calling out to the people behind us to look out.
"Oh man, that totally freaked me out. Can you believe that was a... Wait a minute, what is that?"
And this time it was in the ditch, right next to me. Oh yes, another skunk. Just waiting to spray me.
Then it happened. My legs took off almost without me, I was sprinting like I've never sprinted before, and all the while I was warning everyone like this: "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!"
(Good to know that in a crisis, I will run off and leave everyone behind, screaming like a maniac)
Chad was right behind me and said that when the skunk heard me "Eeeeeeeee," he took off back into the woods. Guess I was a little bit much for him. Serves him right, though. What self-respecting skunk is out and about trying to spray innocent runners at 6:00 in the morning?

Whew. That was just the first mile or two. The rest was seemingly uneventful, until mile 9 or 10 when the heavens opened up and poured on us. I mean, I was drenched, my shoes were squidgy, and I was in the worst possible running outfit for this situation. White running tank, light blue running shorts... I had apparently come ready to win the wet t-shirt contest. And as I ran, soggy and dripping, I happened to look down and saw the most horrifying thing through my white shirt - my own belly button. Oh yes, I was that person. The water-logged exerciser with the shirt that just won't stay out of her own slightly rounder than desired belly button. How many times have I gagged over that very same person? I got exactly what I deserved, and it didn't feel good. It's a good thing I didn't notice until we got back that you could also see the freckles on my legs through my now-transparent shorts, and from behind, a nice big shot of my black and white striped undies (and honestly, who knows what else?).

Needless to say, when I triumphantly finished my 12 miles, I promptly stuck a water bottle under my shirt to hide my belly button and stood sheepishly against my car. Guess I'll think twice before I get dressed next time, right?

So that was my twelve. Here's hoping my own private half marathon is a little less eventful next week.