For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside
That it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.
I wanna find one face that ain’t looking through me
I wanna find one place, I wanna spit in the face of these Badlands…
On Labor Day, I completed my first organized “race” (well, unless you count the 100 yard dash in the elementary school field day as an organized race). I put “race” in quotes because I hardly sprinted. Barely even ran. I’m a walker, mostly, but still it was organized, and timed, and there were prizes for winning, and medals for finishing. That’s a race people.
It was a half marathon — 13.1 miles of pure pleasure. And torture.