Halfway to the Half

I mentioned earlier in a previous post that my mom, Kelsey (my brother's fiance), JT, and myself are in the process of training for the Seaside 1/2 marathon in March. Since that post, my weeks have evolved around the Couch to 10K running regimen followed by a 1/2 marathon training schedule from MarathonRookie.com. Having a schedule makes training relatively easy to endure given the fact that I can print the schedule off the Internet and cross through the days as I complete each run. Sometimes what gets me through a longer run is knowing that when I get home, I can cross through that day's mileage with a big fat yellow highlighter. I also use the Nike Plus app on my iPhone as a makeshift accountability tool. This app posts my runs and daily mileage directly to Twitter and Facebook letting everyone know just how awesome I've been that day. Why

run if not for bragging rights, heh? But, nothing beats a flesh and blood accountability lifeline. Since I do not currently

live in Mobile, I keep in touch with my mom and Kelsey via group text message. We text each other after every run. My "on locale" accountability partner (if you will) is none other than my husband, JT. If not for him, I'd still be a couch potato.

So...halfway through our 1/2 marathon training (also called "getting cute and skinny for an October wedding" plan) JT reminds us that the Village to Village 10K sits dead in the middle of all the running madness. Naturally, he suggests we all sign up, so we do. The only drawback to this particular race was that it was set to occur on a day when we were schedule to run 8 miles.

Here, I need to pause and reflect. If you had at any point in my life (prior to late 201o) suggested that I would be running more than 2 miles at a time, I would have laughed in your face. Me? Run 13.1 miles? You're kidding me, right? That was mindset of Whitney Swanzy. Whitney Swanzy Hornbuckle not only runs but laughs in the face of a meager 13. 1 miles (well...that is a bit of an exaggeration). Sorry, I just get a little overwhelmed sometimes at how much change has happened to me in the past year, good change of course!

Back to my post...With the news that we had to tack on 2 additional miles to the Village to Village 10K, we were a little disheartened. "You mean the finish line is NOT actually the finish line for us?" we all whined. Of course, JT had a solution for that problem. He suggested that we arrive an hour early, run our 2 miles, and then join the other runners at the start line to begin our 10K. It was a good idea; it made the finish line "for real," and so, we acquiesced.

And here is where I have to give a quick shout out to the organizers of the Village to Village 10K that begins in Mountain Brook, Al. Thank you so much for being a dog-friendly race! Yes, Moose got to come run with us. He trained every step of the way with me; he deserved to come.

After running our chilly pre-race 2 miler (it was 19 degrees), we went back to the car, Picked up Moose, and made our way over to the start line. Then, BANG! the race started, and we were off. Moose was a crowd favorite, especially when the other runners realized that the only reason I was making it up the monster hill at the beginning of the race was due to Moose pulling me up every step of the way as if he were a Siberian husky and I were a sled. After we reached the top of that agonizing hill, mom and I were able to enjoy the fantastic scenery. The route was all residential, but we had such a good time looking at other people's houses and mentally decorating them as if they were our own. Each home was as unique and charming as the one that came before it.

It's called the Village to Village 10K because the route takes runners through all three villages: Mountain Brook, English, and Crestline (where I purchased my wedding dress last year at Ivory and White...Go see the girls who run the place; you'll be glad you did!). About the time that mom, Moose, and I reached Crestline Village, our morning coffee had kicked in, and there were no porta potties in sight. Luckily, we were in the village portion and not the residential area, so there were local businesses open. There was bound to be a bathroom somewhere! I am not from this part of Alabama, so I had no idea where to seek relief. That was when I saw it, a Starbucks. "Glory halleluia!" I thought to myself, "we're saved!" Little did I know what monstrosities awaited me inside my favorite coffee establishment. I must remind you, reader, that two human runners and one animal runner were seeking a brief respite in Starbucks. Normally, Starbucks is not pet-friendly, but surely they could make an exception. We were strangers in the midst of a bladder emergency while also being active participants in a race that benefitted the Crestline community as a whole. Being a Swanzy by birth, I asked no one's permission to bring my dog inside; I just did. Debra, my mother (who was also present), had always taught me this: "It is far easier/better to ask forgiveness than permission." Now, I'm not sure if it is easier/better to ask forgiveness than permission. But, I do know this: it doesn't give anyone an opportunity to tell you "no," which is always a big let down.

So, in we sneaked, two women and a pit bull. Three bodies, one bathroom. At this point, privacy didn't matter; we were desperate. I went first. Then, I tried to let the thirsty Moose drink water from the sink, but he couldn't reach it. Darn. He was panting furiously, so I decided to procure him some water from the friendly Starbucks baristas. And, this is where my story takes a nasty little turn. I tell Moose to "shh," but the barista knows something is up. I guess I was acting suspiciously (or sweating profusely), so she peeked over the counter and spotted Moose. She smiled. "Whew, that was a close one!" I exclaimed in my head.

What follows next is the conversation between the barista, an intruder, and myself:

ME: "Could I please have a cup of water for my dog?"

BARISTA: "No (sarcastically)...I'm just kidding. Of course, he can have some water."

RUDE LADY: "Excuse me" (to the barista and myself)

ME and BARISTA: "Yes?"

RUDE LADY: "She doesn't need to get water here. She needs to get water from across the street."

ME: "Excuse me?" (the barista stops in her tracks)

RUDE LADY: "Everyone who live here in Crestline Village knows that runners get their dogs water across the street at the Shell station. You need to go over there."

ME: "Umm...I'm not from here. I'm running in the race today, and I just needed to use the restroom and get some water."

RUDE LADY: "Well, then why don't you go across the street?"

ME: "Because I didn't know to do that, and I'm waiting on my mom who's still in the restroom."

RUDE LADY: "Oh." (The barista silently hands me a cup of water.)

Yes, that actually happened. Yes, some lady (about 5'6", unattractive, salt and pepper hair, patent leather Dansko clogs) who lives in Crestline Village truly believes that her prestigious address and fancy zip code make her "special." Maybe she profiled me because I had a pit bull in her precious Starbucks, but she had the personality of a pit bull (the kind that's starved and used in dog fighting rings that is). What's worse? I ask you.

Mom met me outside, and we continued our run. She asked me how I was doing. I told her I was fueled by rage. She asked why. I then related the entire story to her, which got her blood boiling as hot as mine. I told mom that it wasn't for Jesus living inside of me and me being a Christian I would have given that snob piece of my mind. Mom suggested that I should have gone all "Snookie" on her. For those of you who have no idea who Snookie is, then you need to start watching Jersey Shore stat. Anyway...going all "Snookie" on that woman would have entailed me punching her in the face, jumping on her back, and pulling out her hair while simultaneously yelling all sorts of unladylike epithets. I won't say that embarrassing that stuck up old crone wouldn't have brought a smile to my face (because it would have), but doing so would have caused me to lose my witness and sink to her level. Thanks to Jesus and my ability to quickly count to one hundred (mentally, of course), a major conflict was averted.

After the snub Moose and I received in Crestline, we continued our run through the villages in an uneventful manner. In order to pass the time, mom and I entertained one another by coming up with funny, mean, and inappropriate things we could have said to the evil harpy in Starbucks. We even joked about trying to find her after the race, but our hot tempers and lust for vengeance dissipated as we finally crossed the finish line. What an amazing feeling! 8 miles! WE DID IT!