Soooooooooooo not jealous of the marathoners this morning since St. George decided to get their ENTIRE annual rainfall in one day. And a headwind to boot. I’m feeling very embarrassed about my vain and shallow post yesterday.
I discovered that spectating is a pretty stressful job. Armed with umbrellas and Gatorade we drove to and fro trying to see Erik at various mileage points. Rain poured incessantly and the runners looked absolutely miserable. We missed him at mile 17 and again at mile 24; speeding to the finish line I began to have a panic attack that we’d never find a parking spot and miss him at the finish line too.
Finally, I found some empty curb and pulled the Sequioa into place. “There’s enough room for them to get out of their driveway, right?”
“Sure,” Stefan replied, “if they’re driving a moped.”
We looked again.
Parked again, I asked Xander to hand me my camera bag from the back. “Um, no camera mom. But don’t worry, we’ve got plaster of paris in the back so we can get dad’s handprint.”
So yeah, no photos. But you can come over and see the handprint sometime.
Erik came in at a very respectable (not the time he wanted, but Boston qualifying) 3:19 and oh my, I’ve never seen him in such pain.
“Did you have fun?”
“Why do people enjoy pain like this? I’m never running a marathon again.”
But on the drive home he was already talking strategy for next year.
Home again after our 29 hour trip, I’m watching Newsies with the little people while Erik attends Priesthood Conference with the big boys– there’s no rest for a father of six.
But tomorrow we’ll send him to the couch and feed him chocolate and strawberries all day– he deserves it.