So, if you follow the weather news, you may know that it snowed in South Carolina on Friday night. As in, the night before the Myrtle Beach Marathon. I flew in that afternoon not realizing a "big" storm was coming; by the time we sat down to dinner that evening, big, fat snowflakes had started falling (and sticking). But whatever, right? So I was going to run in the cold. Sowhatwhocares?
The city of Myrtle Beach, that's who. Halfway through our dinner, our waiter popped over to flirt some more with my friend Val tell us that one of his other tables just received an email that the Marathon might be canceled. Sure enough, there it was on my POS phone blackberry: an announcement would be made at 10pm.
Listen, when you may need to get up at 6am to run 26 miles, 10pm is LATE. We struggled to stay up. And of course, the announcement didn't come until about 10:45, at which point I literally ran out to the snow-covered deck and cracked open a blueberry IPA (thanks, Chelsea!).
I mean, what can you do? Val and I ran a 3-miles loop around her neighborhood on Sunday just so we could say we actually ran together. It was lovely, but entirely too short.