The race that almost wasn't

As we have discussed to no end, I ran a race in Luxembourg. It almost didn't happen.

If you follow me on twitter or instagram (@shabbyprincess) or if we're friends on facebook, you know what happened....

Either way, my flight was cancelled. So, my genius idea to hop to Heathrow, pick up my friend Susan and flit to Luxembourg was toast. They kept delaying the flight to begin with, so, by the time it was officially cancelled there were no flights out to anywhere even close to Europe. I stood in line for FOUR HOURS crying to my dad, my best friend, my dad again trying to get them to find me a ticket, any ticket to get me to Luxembourg before the race.

Bonjour, Luxembourg!

We couldn't find anything. I was devastated.

At near midnight, I made it to the ticket counter and burst into tears. After some major favors--and what I believe were a few lies--the amazing folks at British Airways found me a flight to Amsterdam the following afternoon that had a connection to Luxembourg. They even kept my business class seats because of my race!

If I made the connection in Amsterdam, I would arrive mere hours before the race and everything would be ok. If I made that connection. Clearing customs and everything in less than 50 minutes. Sure.

I couldn't sleep on the plane, so, instead I watched some Hugh Jackman movies and then sprinted like a Kenyan through the Amsterdam airport where I barely made my flight to Luxembourg and one hour later, greeted my Red at the world's smallest international airport--no currency exchange even-- and we were off to the race!

Expo outtakes 

By the time we got to the start of the race, I had maybe slept 6 hours in 40 hours, but, I was ready to run! Exhaustion has nothing on adrenaline. And the fact that the hotel restaurant closed at 11pm so, really, I had to run fast, I wanted fooooooooood!

Pre race smiles 

Anyways. You haven't lived until you've been at a race start line where no one speaks English and they are all jamming out to The Black Eyed Peas.

And no one speaks English.... 

Nor, have you lived until a bunch of drunks hand you vodka NOT water at mile 8--let me explain how quickly I gagged that up!

I did not PR that day, not even a little bit. I ran through rain, hail (seriously, my boobs had welts!) and 85degree humidity. I ran through cobbled streets, muddy parks and randomly, JFK Boulevard. I spent the entire time with a smile plastered to my face. I couldn't believe I had made it--that my legs had carried me this far. I never wanted to give up, I never wanted to stop. I laughed, I sang, I jumped, I ran. I had the best time I have ever had with running shoes on!

Mile 12! I FREAKING KNOW 

The entire town was out for their Saturday night activities which meant the streets were lined with spectators. Everyone cheering you on. Everyone having fun. It was impossible to NOT smile, to not laugh, to not have the best time ever. Even when I got a text from a certain British someone--while-- You Give Love A Bad Name was playing on my iPod--I couldn't stop smiling. It was, the best 13.1 miles of my life.

My Red was there to meet me at the finish line, I grabbed my medal and we booked it to the hotel where I ate ALL THE PASTA and ALL THE BROWNIES. And we watched New Girl. Because we are winners.

I wore pink Texas flag shorts. I ain't even ashamed. 

Thank you all for getting me to the start. Thank you for keeping me going this last year. For keeping me going those 13.1 miles, thank you for it all. For the bottom of my wee Texan heart, thank you!

I have so much more to tell--about London, about Priscilla Queen of The Desert cast parties in Stoke (yeah, they party waaaay harder than the Les Mis lot), and catching up Cambridge--it was a great start to a great "holiday". Eeek!