Yesterday was the Bridge to Brisbane fun run for Paul, Ging and I, although as EB suggested, it wasn't all fun.
The 4.25km race we had signed up for started a little later than expected due to stragglers from the previous 12km race. There was a crowd of about 4000 competing in our race and we were all crammed into a small sidestreet waiting for things to get underway. The bloke with the microphone was belting out suspect jokes that were right on the borderline acceptable in a family atmosphere (Mum, what's an orgasm?).
Once the race finally kicked off, the whole crowd had to negotiate a tight left-hander. With baby strollers ramming into the backs of your legs, small kids running sideways instead of forwards, slow-poke walkers stretching right across the road, it was at least 100m into the race before we could actually start running.
Once things had settled down somewhat, you were able to get into a rhythm. Paul took off as he wanted to run it seriously. I hung back with Ging and we were motoring along quite nicely until her knee gave way and various other things broke, and we were reduced to a leisurely walk (with a slight limp). This gave us a chance to check out the running crowd and quite a few people made the effort to dress up. We were passed by the Cat in the Hat, a cow/moose animal, Robin Hood and his merry men (and women), an IronBee (who is a big fat cheat, btw), Big Ladies in Big Blue Skirts, and a Strawberry pushing a pram.
We made a conscious decision not to be beaten by the Big Ladies and the pram pushing fruit, so we upped our walking pace towards the finish line to make sure we buried them in our dust.
In the paper today, they've published the results of our efforts. Let the record show:
Paul: 278th
Time: 22:17.3
Chris: 1011th
Time: 32:57.55
Ging: 1032nd
Time: 33:10.3
Ging and I crossed the finish line at the exact same time, but I must have crossed the start line 13 seconds after her when I was cut off by an errant baby stroller.
Feeling flushed with our success, we treated ourselves to an excellent breakfast at the Gun Shop Cafe in West End. I was paying for Ging's breakfast since I bet her $10 (cash money) during the race that she wouldn't pull the Cat in the Hat's tail as we ran past. After initially laughing it off, she surprised me by barging me out of the way to give the cat a bit of a tug as we scooted by (before her leg broke, or course), shouting an apology (to the cat) as she did so.
Once again, I had my Gun Shop favourite, the French Toast with bacon, maple syrup and cream (which looked something like this).