I'm going over the costs, and I didn't plan for it well. Not to mention I didn't have a backup plan in the event that life would interfere with my efforts. It just can't be done. My car needs a new tire and an oil change, too, which doesn't help. So it looks like this trip is off. Already registered, too. Maybe something will happen that in time, after all, I thought I wouldn't be able to attend several races and at the last minute was able to do so. There is still a little bit of hope, just not much.
It's silly that a woman my age is sad about this, but the truth is that is the exact sentiment at the moment. It's not just any disappointment, it's sadness. It's that childlike disappointment when you find out that Christmas is going to be short that year and that one thing that you spent the entire year being so good to get is no longer going to be waiting on you Christmas morning. It's silly for me to be that disappointed. In fact, it's ridiculous. Sure, there are other races, but this one was special to me for reasons that go beyond its intentions, and for reasons that I'm not sure I'm ready to explain. I had even started drafting an email canceling the shipment of my running shoes in exchange for a reimbursement in hope of cornering the costs, but there is no guarantee that they will process it in time. When I think about it logically, the level of commitment that was given to this race was ludicrous. I skipped three other races that I really wanted to do just to funnel any non-essential funds to this one race. I'm even missing Race for the Cure. Yet at the same time, this is making me realize how much doing races is keeping me sane. Sure, there are plenty that I can still do, but certain ones just give something extra.
This would have been one of those races.
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