Bubble Run

The Bubble Run has been a pain in my ass since last year. It was supposed to be last July but was canceled due to flooding. The rescheduled it for this year but only offered a new registration, no refund. Now, I just happen to be eight and a half months pregnant and cut off from running. It was also very inconvenient to the schedule. But I paid my $50, so I was going.

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I was not looking forward to it going in. I didn’t want to get up early and drive to Denver (after being in Denver late the night before). I didn’t want to walk yet another race I wished I was running. I was just not feeling it.

Then we arrived earlier than expected, and the race started far later than scheduled. We had a toddler birthday party to attend back in the Springs, so we did not have much space in our schedule. Plus, I hate few things more than standing in the start chute for 45 minutes for no damn reason.

At one point, I think we discussed just saying fuck it and going home.

Finally, we got started though. It was a clusterfuck of people trying to walk and run on a very thin park sidewalk. It would have been irritating as hell to try and run through it. Or so I told myself. As we walked, Trisha and I listed out all the reasons it was better we weren’t running. There were walkers everywhere; it was hot. I think we were just distracting ourselves from our desire to be running instead.

As we walked, I was largely unimpressed. Maybe still bitter about the delayed start. Then we reached the first bubble bog. It was a pink, frothy monster, more bubbles than I ever expected.

The colored bubbles poured from a bucket above and created and deep pool between the chute. As I walked in, the bubbles rained down on me and engulfed me. It was nothing but pink ahead of me. I kept walking cautiously, waving my hand in front of me, searching for the break. I kept waiting to see the light on the other side, but it was just pink bubbles. I ran out of breath before I found the other side and had a microflashback of when I nearly drown when I started choking on the bubbles.

Finally, I did found the other side, and though I was choking and coughing on the soap a bit, it was fun. The bubbles were cool and wet and covered me in the pink color.

I felt refreshed as we walked on, though my throat was on fire. It was a long flat park, and we just ambled through. There were three more colored bubble bogs (blue, green, and yellow), though none were quite as immersive as the pink. None covered my face.

So ultimately, it was fun and worth it. I don’t know if it’s a gimmick I’ll do again, but it is a gimmick I’m glad I tried once.

Now I am officially retired from races until after I have my baby. I am volunteering at one next month but no more participating until post-partum. I’ll just start fresh in the fall.

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About ChrstnaBergling

Colorado-bred writer, Christina Bergling knew she wanted to be an author in fourth grade. In college, she pursued a professional writing degree and started publishing small scale. With the realities of paying bills, she started working as a technical writer and document manager, traveling to Iraq as a contractor and eventually becoming a trainer and software developer. She avidly hosted multiple blogs on Iraq, bipolar, pregnancy, running. In 2015, she published two novellas. She is also featured in the horror collection Collected Christmas. Bergling is a mother of two young children and lives with her family in Colorado Springs. She spends her non-writing time running, doing yoga and barre, belly dancing, taking pictures, traveling, and sucking all the marrow out of life. View all posts by ChrstnaBergling

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