The photos of my last race (the marathon relay two weeks ago) were finally posted online the other day and here's one of the shots they captured of me:
I have to say... I'm kinda diggin' this picture.
It seems whenever I see photos of myself running in a race, I don't look... I dunno... real. I don't look like I belong there. Maybe it's because I don't look like a runner in the first place. I'm six feet tall, for crying out loud. I'm gangly and awkward. As another tall friend of mine says, there's a lot of giraffe-esque qualities going on when I run. And even though my legs are long, I have a ridiculously short stride (which might explain the fact I can't seem to run faster than an 8:30 mile pace). In any case, when I see photos of myself running, I think I look like I was flown in by a group of professional photographers, plopped into the middle of a race scene, spritzed with a spray bottle and instructed to strike a running pose.
Click, click! Yeah, girlfriend... work it!... own it! Click, click!
This photo is different, though. It captures me coming up onto my second transition, just about ready to hand off the "baton" (that white snap wrist bracelet I'm holding in my right hand) to my teammate. I was booking it. I know because I very rarely book it in a race. I never saw the photographer, which is a little disturbing to me because the picture was obviously taken fairly close up and I was completely oblivious to him. I was, however, booking it, so that's understandable.
I like the look on my face: pure concentration. (Or pure pain. But let's go with concentration.) And my hair... what's a great action shot without a long ponytail flying in the wind? I'm strong; I'm sweaty; I'm in full stride; I'm giving that last 100 yards my all. Heck, I might even have been running an eight minute mile pace!
Yeah, I like this photo. It's picture proof I really am a runner.
(Copyright by Composure Photography)