I just ran the Guadalupe half marathon this morning, and I'm very happy to report that I regained my title of last place runner! That's right, faithful readers, I came in dead. freakin. last. again. Don't get me wrong-I'm not complaining. There is some glory in last place. All the course volunteers are really, really happy to see you go by; it means they can go home. And I made one CHP officer's day-he blocks traffic on the one road on the course so runners can cross safely. He was schmoozing with the water stop ladies when I approached. After stopping a couple of cars for me, as I crossed the road I told him I was the last runner. A huge grin broke out on his face and I heard him tell the volunteers that he was going home.
There was one last volunteer on the course at the 2 mile mark to make sure we all turned left. I told him I was the last runner. He asked "are you sure there's no one else?" Yes, I was sure. I think I'm capable of figuring out on an out and back course that if I see no one going the other way after I make the turnaround, then I am indeed the last runner. It was a little embarrassing as I crossed the finish line; the volunteers and a lot of the runners were cheering me on as if I was breaking records at Boston. Honestly, they can skip that part. Just let me cross the finish line and let's get on with the awards ceremony. I'm thinking that next year I'm going to tell the race director not to wait for me to come in before she starts handing out awards..I'm pretty sure I'll hold on to my last place title next year.