The Story Of The Scotland 10K.

Some months ago, my dear friend signed up for the Scotland 10K, and though it fell the weekend after the Reston Marathon, I signed up to support her (YAY FRIENDSHIP).

And after my debaucle in Reston, I spent the two days immediately following on a spin bike in an effort to release the kraken my right IT band.

The two days after that were spent doing yoga and stretching (when I wasn’t working, I mean), and finally, on Friday, I decided to head out for a slow, brief jaunt around the reservoir to see if I was up for running Saturday’s 10K.

Happy place.

Happy place.

Things seemed to be in order.

I arose on Saturday, made coffee, ate oatmeal, and did obvious pre-race things. His Lordship opted to do “normal people things on a Saturday” aka “sleep in,” so I set off down to the start by my lonesome.

As I stood in my corral, I felt a rumbly in my tumbly. No, not a hunger pang, a normal I-had-too-much-coffee-IBS-pang. Instead of jetting over to the park bathrooms, I decided to wait until after the 6.2 miles to relieve myself.

This is referred to as “foreshadowing.”

The first mile was fine, albeit faster than I intended.

By mile 2, I needed to use the facilities. Badly.

By mile 3, the second half of Harlem Hill seemed to settle my stomach, but only for a brief moment, as by mile 4.5, I stopped at a “Royal Flush” station behind the MET.

And MY GOD, the smell. It smelled like someone put a dead sewer rat underneath the pile of stench that already laid upon the bottom of the Royal Flush.

I held my breath and quickly returned to clean air. I watched some of the runners go by looking so joyous and gleeful. It made me wonder what holding my bowels was looking like to fellow onlookers.

I started up again, reminding myself to keep it slow and steady.

My finish was nowhere near spectacular, and I’m okay with that.

What started as a tempo run quickly became a clench-my-buttcheeks-and-hope-for-the-best-run.

What started as a tempo run quickly became a clench-my-buttcheeks-and-hope-for-the-best-run.

I waited at the finish line for my friends (albeit uncomfortably), and got to see my comrade fly through the finish!

We celebrated with beers, luncheon, and bathroom activities.

The rest of the weekend was spent Upstate.

Not long ago, we were told a near and dear family member was very ill. We lost that family member on March 21.

I think about her when I run. With each gust of wind I feel her presence and can almost hear her laughter.

Here’s to my wonderful family—the warriors and heroes of the Lewis clan—I cannot be more thankful for each and every one of you.

Much love.

Much love.


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