At the starting line, I carried a big black bag and a fanny pack I decided not to use for my race. I saw an acquaintance in the crowd and asked her to carry it for me. She said no.
Meanwhile I saw another friend take off with someone else. To be more specific, this is the same friend who ran the half-marathon with me in 2014.
From a distance, I saw my dad walking away from the starting line. Feeling weighed down by all the bags I carried, I dragged myself toward him and asked him to hold onto my bags until I finished my race. He said no.
In between me and my dad, a seemingly friendly stranger interjected and offered to carry my bags. This stranger was a big white dude, undoubtedly a weeaboo, who gushed to me about his obsession with Japanese culture and anime. Gross. But I had no choice.
He handed me his smartphone so that I can input my contact information. I noticed his keyboard was in Japanese, enabled with the handwriting recognition.
I was already rushing to get going with my race, yet the smartphone wouldn’t recognize the characters for my name no matter how many times I wrote my name in Japanese. At this point everyone already started racing… except me.
And then I woke up.
The sun’s about to set over here in Pacific Standard Time and I’m still thrown off by this silly dream. I’m gonna go on a walk, blast 24K Magic into my ears, and embrace my anxiety (compounded by other life things, but that’s another story).
And stay hydrated. Can’t forget that, either. *chugs water from my 40oz hydroflask*
I trust myself and I know that I have what it takes to run a full marathon!!