What happens when you wake up at 5am on the morning of your first race and realize that not a single bus runs past the park you are supposed to run through?

You check out the local taxi situation, learn that a 20-minute trip will cost you 30 dollars. And then you put on your race shirt and your mascara, and instead run 5.4 km along a well-known and well-loved route. The sun rises, the mist burns off the river valley, Whoopi Goldberg sings in your ear. Your legs are fine. You hold your head up. And you burst in the door 40 minutes and 30 seconds later, just as your husband is waking up.

Counting this as a win.