The bet.

I do not have a good track record with bets.  In fact, I can't outright think of a time I've ever actually won a bet, which I suspect may have something to do with my disbelief in the theory of probability.  The point is however, that this doesn't stop me from participating when the offer of a bet comes up.  Oh god, that's the definition of insanity isn't it?

I have a lot of friends that are runners.  This is great.  It means I am consistently encouraged to get out of bed, leave the couch, stop working for an hour to meet someone to go for a run.  You also form a special bond with your running buddies.  It's nice.

After the Pittsburgh marathon, of which several of us ran the full, half, or a relay, we caught the racing bug, and began scheduling races through out the summer.  It was determined that the group would run the Race for Roch in Mount Washington in July.

It was all fun and games and witty email chains until Regina threw out the question "Wait, should we make this a bit of a...race?"

To which I, who can never turn down a dose of competition responded with "Oh, I don't know should a group of ambitious relatively type A people make a race a race? Heck yes, we should make this a race! We should make this a race with a cash prize!"

We've decided that rather than cash, the winner gets to assign karaoke songs to the losers while the losers buy the winner their drinks of choice.

This has inevitably lead to emails full of tough talk and threats to pick songs exclusively from Cats, make everyone sing the same Jimmy Buffet song, orders of expensive aged scotch, and the hill work we are all doing in preparation for July 30.

I don't know what I was thinking.  I am not a fast runner.  Especially not in Pittsburgh July heat, uphill, in the morning.  However, I'm hoping that my gut-wrenching fear of karaoke will cause an endorphin induced miracle that allows me to win.

We'll see.  In the meantime, I've got hill repeats to sprint.