Nike+ Human Race

I resisted Nike’s marketing machine as long as I could, but eventually, it was the fashion opportunity that won me over. I couldn’t resist the idea of the running shirt printed with a giant race number. Behold Dave and I in our jerseys:

After the Run for the Peanut Butter Bars, the associated eating of the peanut butter bars, the lounging at the pool, and a twitchy nap, I wasn’t 100% motivated to run another 6.2 miles in the August heat. I seriously considered staying in the air conditioned bedroom instead.

But then I put on my determined face:
And Dave did, too:
We posed for our traditional pre-race photos, in which we pretend to be badasses that might knock you down and steal your energy bar:


Then we captured our obligatory self-portrait and headed downtown:
When we arrived at the starting line, we found ourselves among thousands and thousands of similarly clad runners:And then we ran and ran and ran and ran. Through downtown. Along Red River. Past Austin landmarks. Down the Drag. And up four rather long hills.

Thank you, American flag bandanna dude, for providing a great pace up hill number one. Camo-print hat guy, you got me up hill number two; kudos to you. Skinny bird girl in white terrycloth headband, you made hill number three possible. And annoying gaggle of ponytail girls who insisted on walking in a clump up hill number four, a special thanks to you because you motivated me to run up the hill as fast as I could to GET AWAY FROM YOU!

It’s all good.

In the finish line chute, I ate some chocolate granola and yogurt like a starving animal, hit the port-a-potty, drank two bottles of water, then collected Dave under the State theater sign. On our way to the Hilton to catch a cab home, we ate a slice of pizza on Sixth Street, and I’ll tell you what: that pizza tasted really, really, really good.

Here are my official results:

Congratulations to my Peanut Butter Bar compadres who also braved the red Nike army and 90+ temperatures. Y’all are first-rate, hardcore badasses.