My son, Bubba and I decided to do the 5K Hot Chocolate Race in Atlanta this past Sunday. It sounded like a good idea. Especially since at the end of the run, they give finishers a big bowl and plate filled with rice crispy treats, marshmallows, a banana, chocolate, and of course, hot chocolate!
We had been training for about a month. We were in good shape (aside from blisters on my toes and a screwed up knee–neither of which I acquired from running). On the morning of the big race, I woke up at 4:00 AM (we had to be there by 6:30 AM), and discovered it was raining. Hard. I groaned. Running in the rain was not something I wanted to do.
Then I looked at the thermometer. 35 Degrees Fahrenheit. Almost cold enough to snow. This is crazy, I thought.
My boy came downstairs.
"Dude," I said. "Take a look at the weather. Do you seriously want to do this?"
He poked his head outside. "Sure. It's not great, but it's no big deal."
The weather forecast indicated that the rain was going to continue all day. Atlanta was under a weather advisory. I checked the race site. It was still on.
"Okay," I said. "We'll go see what's up. And maybe we can still get our hot chocolate. That's what we're going for, right?"
Long story short - the corral wait in the rain was an hour. The run was just over 35 minutes. It was the coldest, wettest running experience ever! And the hot chocolate wasn't hot. It was tepid.
"That was great!" Bubba said. "Can we do the 15K next year?"