Monday, March 26, 2007

A Perfect Triathlete Proposal (of Marriage, that is)

Here’s how it went down. Take some mental notes, in case you're planning a triathlete-triathlete proposal as well:

I wake up at 3:15 to go to Marina del Rey and catch a 4:15am ferry to Avalon on Catalina Island to run a 10K. Naturally, I look like crap. I semi-successfully attempt to sleep for the 2 hour ride.

Upon arrival, I meet another very nice woman with an awesomely wacky wooly hat, whose brother is doing the marathon, and who is as clueless as I am about what we’re supposed to do when we get there.

We found packet pick up in the lobby of a very tiny hotel. For some reason, I pictured the “St. Catherine’s Hotel” to be a lot bigger. It is teeny tiny. Then, there is no place to put our bags. There are, however, lockers over by the boat dock. But it is freezing outside, and I am a wuss, and I’m also a quarter hoarder (gotta do laundry somehow!). So we hang out by the lockers until the last moment we can to take our stuff off and put it inside.

At about 7:40am, I run a 20 minute warm up. At 8:15 the race starts. (My 10K. The marathoners started at 7. As I said, I am a wuss.)

Amazingly, and for the first time in my life, I am semi toward the front of a running race. Pretty freaking sweet. Except the last 2 miles are downhill and they KILL my poor aching quads. I was enormously too proud of my not all that amazing 48:20something time. I still had to run for another hour, as per Ironman training, and ran back up the hill about 2.5 miles to wait and cheer for Boyfriend when he ran by.

7 people went by and then there he was! I cheered and screamed and as he ran by, he yelled “Come on!”

Yeah rignt. Haha. It’s a joke right? I ran behind him for all of maybe 15 seconds, screaming for him to beat the guy in front of him, then never saw him again. My ego which had been unduely overinflated in the hour before came back down to size; I can’t keep up with Boyfriend in the last 2 miles of the most difficult marathon there is. Sad.

I ran back down, telling everyone I passed, “No, I’m not the first female,” to which one spectator responded “Well, you’re the first good looking one” to which I didn’t know how to react, as there hadn’t been any females ahead of me anyway…

I got back and couldn’t find him at the finish line. Then he found me, and pulled me to the side of the awards platform. They were starting the 10K awards and I was sure I had won something—it was an out and back course and a lot of those women did not seem to be in my age group. He was tugging me the side and then I heard my name and jumped up there. Woo hoo! First running medal in my life!

Then he sat me down and I knew this was it. He got down on one knee, and said the sweetest rehearsed poem/expression of his love for me, then pulled a ring out of a cloth in his camelback! My brain stopped all function. I was just thinking, “Holy shit! No way!”

Then he produced the most gorgeous ring I have ever seen. Extremely sparkly, diamondy. Very vintage looking. Absolutely perfect. And now also the most expensive thing I own. I don’t think my car is even worth as much.

He went to put it on my finger after I said, “Yes” and…

It wouldn’t fit.

I had just run about 13 miles total, and my hands swell when I run. They were all fat and the only finger the ring would fit on was my right pinky. Oi!

So then, it was time for the phone calls.

First? My two best friends. Second? My little brother. Third? Mom. Then I had to call my dad, who Fiance had every intention of asking, but would not possibly see for months. And asking on the phone would have been lame.

Here’s how that went down:

Me: Hi dad! I just ran a 10K and I got 3rd in my age group and did it in 48 minutes!

Dad: How’d you get so fast?

Me: And Jimmy proposed!

Pause. Long, heart attack-inducing pause.

Dad: Proposed what?

Me: marriage…

Dad: Oh…really? He did, huh…

Me: Yeah! Anyway, what I was really proud of is that I actually placed in a running race. That’s super cool, huh? Well, I love you! Bye!

Thus concludes a perfect triathlete proposal (of marriage, that is)!

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