I was worried that having the kids would home would put a cramp in my candy consumption. But I’ll have you know, I’ve already snuck into the kitchen five times to grab handfuls of M&Ms and neither child has noticed. I’d like to say it’s because I’m so good at being sneaky, but really it’s because we spent all morning shopping for camp supplies, which was uber boring for all of us, and it’s cloudy and gross out so I didn’t have the energy to say, “No,” when they asked to go on the computer and iPad. Once those machines go on, the kids are gone, which at the moment, I can’t complain about. Wait. Hold on. I need some more M&Ms.
Okay, I’m back. School only finished last Friday, and we have not had stellar summer weather yet, which is a shame as we have use of the YMCA’s outdoor pool and the girl has finally learned how to ride a bike, but instead, we are running errands and mostly hanging out indoors, running out for a bit of play when it isn’t too yucky out.
A while ago (to completely change the subject), a friend posted on Facebook about One Run for Boston. The run was a relay from California to Boston in support of the One Fund, which provides money to those injured in the bombing at the marathon. The run sounded intriguing, and for a good cause, and I convinced the Duchess it would be a good idea for us to run the event together. We picked the last leg, from Newton to Boston, along the marathon route, because, well why not? The relay was to arrive in Newton at 7 p.m., and from there it was eight miles to the finish line. This was the only leg of the race that filled to capacity (some stages were individual stages, but all the legs at the end were group runs) with 650 runners.
We signed up, and I pretty much forgot about it, till Adam said, “I need to fly to California on Sunday night,” and I thought, “Hey, don’t I have something going on?” Adam kindly agreed to leave in the wee hours on Monday morning, and the Duchess and I were good to go.
Except. The relay was running late. Four hours late. And by mid-day on Sunday, it was running five hours late. So our 7 p.m. stage was predicted to start at 11:30 p.m. On a Sunday.
The Duchess was wavering. I could feel it. Well, the fact that she said, “I’m not sure I can do this,” was also a big clue, but I’ve learned that I can ignore what the Duchess says because she can be guilted convinced of most anything if you put a good spin on it. But even I was having doubts of running at 11:30 p.m. On a Sunday. And let’s add in some rain for good measure. Yet I had already made Adam change his flight, so it didn’t seem right to bail.
We compromised. We bailed on leg #319 and joined leg #316, the six-and-a-half-mile run from Hopkinton–at the marathon start–to Framingham. Which started at the much more reasonable 8:05 p.m. This was a wee bit more complicated as we had to leave one car in Framingham, drive to Hopkinton, run to Framingham, and drive back to Hopkinton for the car (as opposed to being in taxi and/or T range). It was worth it. The group was smaller, I pushed myself (the group pace was supposed to be about a 10-minute mile, but really was a sub-9-minute mile), and it was so friendly and cozy and fun. The director of the BAA joined us for the leg as well as one of the guys who created the race, a Brit who kept saying “batton” for “baton.” The crowd was small enough that each of us got to carry the baton part of the way, which was a fun for me, but torture for the Duchess, who lives up to her name with her snooty extreme germaphobe ways (she said after, “I could only imagine how many sweat-covered hands had held that plastic beacon of germs.” Or something to that effect).
(I signed my name on Texas, if you’re looking for it.)
The event was fabulous and despite the crazy logistics, we were both glad we did it, germs and all. Now, to get more M&Ms. Quick, before the battery runs out on the iPad!
