Working from 7.30 to 16.00 and then from 17.00 to 20.15 is exhausting no matter what you do for a living. Ok, maybe if your job is testing matresses, it's not that exhausting. But for the rest of us that have REAL jobs, 11-hour work days can feel like an eternity.
When days like these coincide with the premier of the ”Around the bridges”-race series and I have to miss it, you bet I get cranky. Sure, there will be a race next week, and the week after that and every Tuesday until the end of May, but this was the premier. I've been training all winter for this. But no. I didn't get to run today. Pout.
Sitting at a meeting for three hours didn't seem like a great alternative to racing either, as I rushed home at 16.00 to get some food before I rushed back to work. But I was a woman on a mission. If I couldn't run the race, I could at least be a spectator. You see, the race takes place close to where I work. So, on my way back to work, I found a place where I could stand without being in anyone's way and waited for the runners to come.
I wasn't expecting such a huge crowd. I stood there for a good ten minutes while people of all ages ran past me – and that was only the first heat of four! I cheered whenever one of my club mates appeared, and smiled at everyone. Although I did have to put on a frown, a very very stern frown, at one point. A cheeky little boy, sweaty but otherwise completely unaffected by the effort, asked me as he ran past if he could borrow my bike. ”No way”, I told him, trying not to smile at the mop-haired rascal. ”Keep running, you're doing great!”
(Later, I found out that he needed my bike to get to a burning building in order to rescue a kitten that was in grave danger thanks to my pathological lying when it comes to how far I intend to run on any given day. Not really, but I can't help thinking, WHAT IF I WAS WRONG ABOUT HIS INTENTIONS??)
As I cycled back to work to face a three-hour meeting, I felt like I had drunk the strongest cup of coffee. Being a spectator is not as energy-giving as running the race, but it's the next best thing. And next week – fingers crossed – it's my turn to run.