this was pretty much the weather forecast for the maine coast women's half marathon this past weekend. and yet approximately 1,200 runners (that's about 2,400 ovaries) pitched up in assorted combinations of pink wicking spandex to brave the harsher end of tepid.
any sporting event that promotes itself purely on the basis of a matching set of chromosomes has the potential to be as annoying as one of those scented candle parties. fortunately, the act of slapping on a timing chip and bib number cancels out too much of the "kumbaya" and ratchets up the competition.
(because i really wont get out of bed for anything less than a 10k).