Y ou are so insanely ready for this year's Bolder Boulder that you could basically phone this one in.

But that's not how this Memorial Day tradition works, so shake off that hangover and drag yourself over there through the haze, boozypants.

Don't forget pants.

Not sure? Pshaw. You're so ready, trust me. And if you don't trust me (you shouldn't -- see my PR at the bottom), trust these signs that you are fosho ready to run/walk/jog/yog/spectate/slip-and-slide like a mofoin' Bolder Boulder pro.

You started training yesterday

Months ago, you signed up for the Bolder Boulder. You were at the Dark Horse, drinking with friends, racing some tricycles, and someone said:

"Eye no. Lesss do the Bolder Smolder."

Smartphones out, some drunk typing and BAM, you're signed up for the race.

But since then, you've been busy with classes and work and more trips to the Dark Horse.

No problem. You started training yesterday. It'll be like cramming for exams -- the whole semester in one night.

That applies to running, right?

Everyone you know signed up

You've been putting off signing up for the run, but now your friends, your friends' friends, your mom, your grandma, your pop-pop, pop-pop and grandma's friend Snooky (the original. Stupid "Jersey Shore") -- they've all signed up.


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Heck, my cat signed up. His best 10K time is 41 minutes. Don't feel bad. He's really a badass and has four legs. That's twice as many as you. In case you were counting.

Basically, you are the only person you know who hasn't signed up. The time is now. You're ready. Besides...

Your annual bacon-plus-beer craving has returned

You ever wake up and have that taste for a sticky-dry-thickish mouth and wish you could wash it down with a run and a hunk of bacon plucked from a stranger's hand and a lukewarm lite beer at the top of a hill?

For the record: the author has not been training in a Teletubby costume. David Bunker, left, and Richard Poppe both of North Platte, Ne., run in costumes
For the record: the author has not been training in a Teletubby costume. David Bunker, left, and Richard Poppe both of North Platte, Ne., run in costumes during the Citizen's Race of the 2012 Bolder Boulder. (PAUL AIKEN)

Yeah. It's time to do this.

All of your injuries have flared up at the same time

Nothing says "I trained like Pre, what did you bastards do?" like four or five injuries slamming your overtrained body at once.

Never mind your achy knees and ankle and nose (hey, that could be a running injury) and ouchie pinkie toe. Mentally, you are so ready. And since icing fixes everything, you're just going to freeze yourself in a giant block of ice like a wooly mammoth in Siberia from now until Monday morning.

It'll be fine. Please bring me a drink with a straw.

You haven't worn a costume lately

Your costume closet is cleaned up and organized and wait, what?

That must mean you haven't worn a costume to a party or the Thursday cruiser ride or just to go grocery shopping in, like, weeks.

How have you been expressing yourself all this time?

Weeks is too long between costumes in Boulder. Don those purple stretch pants, orange mesh top, fuzzy blue tutu and glitzy green wig and get out there, friend. You are ready to party with Snooky on the slip-and-slide.

WOO!

-- Jenn Fields is a one hour, five minute and something seconds Bolder Boulder jogger who likes to eat bacon and marshmallows on the course and yell "WOO."