In my first attempt, I was the Polish. Not wanting to further the Polish stereotype but finding it useful in this moment, I lost a bit of my cleverness once the costume was on. Rather than run full speed, I schmoozed with the crowd. This led to an earful from my supervisor. Apparently, Major League Baseball hands out fines for between-inning entertainment that goes too long. So, running the race the right way isn't just requested, it is expected.
When my name appeared on the schedule as a racer for the second time, the nerves were much more apparent. Regardless, they nurtured a new racing spirit. As the Italian, a dramatic comeback and last second lunge propelled me past my costumed competitors.
|My last day as a sausage. Embry wasn't impressed.|