It’s like a teaching nightmare. All the worst things that could happen, all for your dreaming pleasure, a few nights before the big day.
I dreamt last night of our upcoming race on Sunday. I should preface this by saying that D and I were looking at some logistic problems with getting to packet pick up (at the starting line) and parking the car and catching the shuttle bus (at the finish line, 26 miles away). We are not driving out the night before, like we usually do, and the race organizers did not plan well for out-of-towners coming in the morning of the race.
Coming to our rescue is dear friend J, newly anointed 10K runner, who volunteered to drive out with us and drop us at the start line so we don’t have to mess with the shuttle, and then meet us at the finish.
So, even though all that is now taken care of, I still had a bizzare-o dream last night of getting to the start line late, and then finding that the marathon was part scavenger-hunt, part fear factor, part orienteer fest, part hash. I kept getting the map out and finding that yes, I *was* supposed to go into this person’s house and run up the stairs, into a bedroom, out the sliding glass doors, and down the deck steps.
Plus, I was wearing my worst-est pink/purple track shorts, which I can’t actually run in in real life because of their chafing properties.
I kept thinking that this would be a much better race run with a buddy.