chicken shit bingo at ginnie's little longhorn

I did the Austin marathon, number 31 and I was 5th in my new age group - not bad for an old girl. I finished in 4:24 - not my best but not my worst - but it was a beautiful day even if the route was really hard. Lots of hills that never quit. I wore my skirt...and felt like a cheerleader. Being that I have been scarred for life cause I never COULD be a cheerleader (I couldn't do the splits), maybe this will help my psyche a little bit. Running skirts are the new rage and it was quite comfortable although maybe they are meant for younger legs than 55 year old ones -even if mine are damn good!

I have a goal to always look sickenly sappily happy at the finish, even if everything below my smiling face hurts - I don't want anyone to look at me and say "See! Running can't be fun....look at how bad that woman looks". I ran by someone who had a sign that said "It takes less muscles to smile" so that confirmed my belief that even if I felt bad, I could at least fake it and not strain my face and get more wrinkles.

It was a great girl trip. Kseniya and CAJ came and also some friends from church and friends of those friends...all were younger than me. It was ironic that all the young girls did the half marathon, and me and the one next to my age did the marathon.

As nice as the day, the route and the people were, it was one marathon that I was glad to be finished with. Some are like that. I just kept thinking of those 26 people on my list that I had to run for and hoped my sore achilles would not tear, hobbling me and leaving me writhing in agony on the route - surely to be immortalized in film like the skier in "the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat" commercial from a while back. It did not and I finished and had chicken noodle soup and after I forgot how bad I felt at times, made plans on how I could do it better next time. What is wrong with me?

Back to the chicken shit. Kseniya, CAJ and I went to Ginny's little longhorn - a bar in Austin that resembled many I have been in over they years and all of them I have liked because the people are real and nice and just having fun. They had a sign in the bar that said "Red necks for Obama". There was a chicken coop on a pool table and we soon found out that it was Chicken shit bingo Sunday. At first I worried it would be cock fighting or something like that. After we listened to some good cowboy music (Dale Watson) and had a beer or two and talked to a really tall guy who folded himself in half to give us hugs cause we were so short and cute, everyone got in line to buy tickets for bingo.

We payed a dollar for a ticket, which had a number on it. The floor of the chicken coop had numbers on it matching the ticket numbers. Ginny, a kindly older gray haired woman who looked like she was one to be reckoned with if crossed, brought out a beautiful reddish hen after laying the floor of the coop with chicken food. The chicken was placed in the coop and began to eat. Everyone was encouraging her to poop on their number. As it turned out, the object of the game was for the chicken to poop on your number and then you won all the loot.

It took about ten minutes and the chicken dropped a dollup of green avocadoey slime on the number 6. We had 12. I have never seen people go so wild over a chicken pooping.

What a way to celebrate my 31st marathon. Chicken Shit Bingo. What a country!