I posed my inquiry to the security guard at the desk. "You'll pick up your number soon after the first mile marker," he cheerfully answered. Then he rose up from his seat and looked over the crowd. "Oh, there's no reason why we need to wait any longer. Go on and get going." He started making a shoo-ing motion towards the street. I took the cue immediately and darted through the revolving door. Many inside were still stretching, and as the rest of the pack took notice of the signaling from the behind the desk, there was a mad scramble to get up off the tile floor, pack away bags, and hurry outside. As tangerine streaks of dawn lit the sky above, the gray pavement below was blotted with runners streaking out as a race was suddenly underway.
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Once outside the Hyatt, faster runners were finally catching up to me, including some elites. Dire Tune pulled alongside (probably at her walking pace) and struck up a conversation with me. I don't remember what we were chatting about, but this was especially unusual because I don't share a common language with her.
And as one might have suspected, it was at this point that I woke up from the dream.
1 comment:
Hilarious! Love the pictures too!
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