Oh it is a cold morning to be in race shorts. With a chilly breeze cutting through thin licra, teeth are chattering more than feet are running- for now.
In moments there will be a few thousand runners streaming down Ohio Avenue for a six mile log. Before them we wait.
Waiting to find a parking space. Waiting for our race packet. Waiting for the toilet. And now waiting for the race.
Wish us luck. We will need it.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs
