I entered the lottery for a spot in this year’s New York City Marathon. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t really even sure I should enter. I was peer pressured into doing it, actually.
Even though running and I are frenemies.
I pushed the button (with some hand-over-hand support from my husband) and then didn’t think about it for WEEKS.
My brain, on the other hand, was working on it at least a little. Because it remembered that the lottery would take place on March 3. And in the few days preceding it, I started to think about how cool it would be to get in. How much training I would have to do to make it at least an OK day. How much I would really…REALLY like to get in. Screaming at myself for the notion of wanting to get in.
WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?!?!?!
And then March 3 actually rolled around and I started checking my email at regular intervals. Like stalking the inbox. Hoping I’d get the congratulatory email. Not sure I would. And texts were flying back and forth among the four of us who entered the lottery. We ALL were waiting to hear.
And the work day ended with no word.
I called one of my running peeps on the way home and we agreed that if one got in and the other didn’t, the other would charity run it. That, my friends, means raising $2620 between now and October 1.
I got home and my evening went like it usually does with family and dinner and WHAT THE HELL IS THIS PLAN FOR MAKING UP SNOW DAYS YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME and watching something on TV. During which I finally had a chance to check my email again. It was about 8:00 at that point, and I knew they would send emails until midnight.
It had come in at 7:15.
I’m in.
Holy shit I’m in. What the hell was I thinking but how freaking cool is this that I’m IN.
And one of my other peeps is too. Now we just have to make sure at least one more raises that load of money for a charity. Stay tuned for bake sale information.
Rhymes with Bucket 