Ras na hEireann 5K

Do you have any idea about how to pronounce this? Because I certainly don't. But I (along with Dr. Bombay, of course) ran this race last Sunday. Along with something like 2700 other runners who were all squeezed into the narrow streets of my neighborhood for this Saint Patrick's Day run. That's a whole lotta people. Here we all are:


(Though it's hard to tell, I'm in there. I'm wearing blue and I look like I'm about to push a woman with a green shirt out of my way. In fact, that may have been what I was thinking about at that moment.) (Actually, on second thought, I don't think I'm in this picture. Oops. I guess it was crowded. But I was probably still thinking about pushing someone out of my way.)

Because of the huge crowd, I found it difficult to navigate my way through, even though the start was supposedly organized by estimated mile time. I imagine that some people think they are faster than they actually are. Which is funny, because I also thought I would be slower than I actually was. After the race, I had a sense that I hadn't gone very fast. My hamstring that's been hurting was complaining and I figured it must have slowed me down. And the clock at the finish line wasn't much help, since it took me a while to even get to the starting line. But then it turned out I ran it with 7:18 miles, which made me very pleased.

You know, I realize that this may be a somewhat boring post, especially to those who aren't into running. So let me spice it up a bit: I narrowly avoided getting spat on during the race. Now, I can understand having some phlegm build up when you're running fast. But what I don't understand is why one would necessarily need to spit on the street. Especially given the aforementioned crowd. Really, there is no place for the spit to land except on another person. And why is it almost always men who seem to feel the need to do this? Hey Boys! Spitting in public and on others doesn't make you more of a man!

So here's what went down: I was coming up alongside some guy in the race in preparation to pass him. Then he spat and I narrowly avoided the loogie. I yelled out and he said nothing, though he had a smug little smile on his face.

And then I passed his dumb ass.