Although I live in Algeciras, the blogosphere has yet to see me in leggings and thigh high boots. I considered fishnets, (in the name of my art), then I said naaaaaaaah. That’s so 2011. What my public needs is to see my Not So Spanish ass in sweaty lyrca running tights.
Have you been wondering where I’ve been? I’ve been running.
As my brother would say, “Running? Why? Was a bear chasing you?”
Today I ran my very first race. (Elementary school doesn’t count, does it? ) 6.5 km in Tarifa. It was really fun. Once it was over.
Here I am doing my warm-up (aka: running late, the form of running I do most often)
Getting suited up with my team.
One final consultation with my trainer.
And we’re off!
These are fast guys. I am not in this photo. There are no thigh high boots in this photo. Must be one hell of a bear back there.
Winney the Pooh is gaining ground.
“Or maybe I’m first! I’m alone, in front of the pack! There’s no one around. Oh shit. I’m actually lost.”
“Wait, I’m saved! It’s the Red Cross. And better yet. A bar!”
Actually, I came fifth! Well, fifth in my category. Ok, so there were only eight people in the old lady category. But they were really fast old ladies and I was faster than three of them.
“Give me a break! I survived! Now, quit taking photos of me when I am sweaty!”