Run – Bike – Run
Hello again! You’re back at it with your infamous 4-year old reporter (soon to be five – YESSSSS!) .
This race was a bonus, an add-on so to speak. Originally it wasn’t really clear whether my Dad was going to participate in it or not – but finally (after all that training…) he decided to sign up for it – only to catch a cold the next day after he had signed up for it. That was Wednesday – and yes, correct, the race was on Saturday. Mmm, not enough to make him smile every morning he got up with a sore throat. But well, lots of sleep finally cured it enough to have him get out of bed and drive to Cary Saturday morning. The race-pack pick-up had been Friday afternoon after 5:00 pm – I don’t think he’s ever going to do that again – traffic comes to a halt in Cary at 5:00 pm on Friday. What are all these people doing??? Picnics in the road? Waiting for the lights to turn red so that they can continue to be parked in the middle of the road??? No wonder no one was there besides him when he had finally made it to the store…
It was so nice of him to have gone to the pick-up the day before though. I didn’t want to miss him the next morning. Sometimes it feels like all we are waiting for to hear from him is: Is it the weekend? Is it the weekend? IS IT THE WEEKEND? FINALLY! Sis and me love it when he doesn’t say: I love you, gotta go to work! Cause it means it’s Saturday! It’s Sunday! It’s OUR day! Its US. US. USSSSSS!!!
So, I know, he did have to leave this morning, too. But I knew he was going to this race, and that he was looking forward to it. But we did have breakfast together before, and we all promised to meet up with him before he was going to cross the finish line. I mean, I don’t think he actually knows how to cross the finish line when I’m not there.
All in all the race went pretty well. The first run wasn’t bad at all – and Mr. Thrifty was making sure he wasn’t going to spent everything he got before even getting on the bike (5 miles/8 km in 39.44 min). Though I think someone must have overheard him saying right after getting onto the bike: …”enough with the fu*king running already”…I think that’s the only way he could have ended up with that 15 minute penalty that put him so far down on the list of finishers. Je je. Anyhuh, the biking was the best! Again. He wouldn’t stop telling Mom on how much faster he was with those new shiny tires he got, and she wouldn’t stop telling him how much faster he would be if he would get a new bike. Those two! I tell you. I thought all the hugging and kissing only works wonders for us. But boy, do those faces light up when they get a kiss or two.
The biggest troubling question during these races of course always is: What to wear? And more importantly: How many layers of it! Personally I always vote for the pink shirt and the long underpants – but somehow that never ends up being what he is wearing when I see him again (Dude!!! This morning! I saw a neighbor walking his 5” dog wearing ? what do they call those? Bademaentel? No, damn it, in English??? Bathrobe, That’s it! Bathrobe. He was wearing a bathrobe!!! AND! It was too short. It was gray…it was totally out of a bad movie. I think Daddy winked at him as he drove past him in his red sports car. Wow! I love this neighborhood.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, …the race! So, a steady pace of 18.1 mph took Dad around Lake Jordan (31 miles/50 km in 1.44 hours), along with the other about 150 racers that were out there that day. Some mom in a minivan with kids in the back must have been looking for her glasses as she nearly took out three of the racers, and one of the Cops wanted to meet everyone personally before waving hysterically that we had missed the turn! But all in all, we couldn’t have asked for a better day in March. Not one cloud in the sky (or on the brain)!
But then! Running again. I know, we have been through this already. One of the fellow racers was trying to cheer up Dad (not the easiest thing when you are passing him) by saying – Come on, Raoul (somehow they met during the bike portion) – keep it up – and all Dad could mumble was: “I can’t feel my feet. Actually, I’m not even sure I’m feeling my legs right now”. Running on two rubber sticks can’t be that much fun I guess. That’s what someone at work asked my Dad today, too: And you do this for fun, right????
As we are driving into the park we see Daddy running on the side of the street. Boy, he’s pretty happy to see us! Mom wants to know if he has to run another lap??? No, this is it! he says with a very big smile! Yeah! He’s done already (5 more miles in pitiful 47.58 min – that gave him an overall finish time of 3:14:06, 64th place out of 106 MEN – the best placement he got was for T2 change time: 1:02 minutes. Rank 35!!! He really couldn’t wait to start running again…- all the details are here: http://www.fsseries.com/results.php?rs=79 ). Grandma throws it into low gear and races up to the finish line as everyone scrambles out of the car falling everywhere and nowhere.
It takes little or no coordination, and it really doesn’t matter – we make it to the finish line and we are all standing there, cheering. I run up to him, grab his hand, and pull him across the finish line! Everyone is happy!
