Marathon!

How many people does it take to run a marathon?  For me, (right now) the answer is four.

Four people.  Four countries.  Four continents.

Yesterday, I ran a marathon relay with friends from Germany, China, and Australia.  The weather was amazing.  Amazing as in amazingly HOT and humid.  And windy.  Oh my.  It was like being back in Florida running in the summer.  Sticky and sweaty.  It was all I could do to keep from smelling, so, um, European.

Screech wanted in on the running thing, too.

I’ve never been to a marathon before.  The “pre-show” is the convention.  Lots of vendors selling expensive shoes, clothes, and other gear.  Our Messe (as it’s called in German) had free massages.  I’m sure you can guess how long that line was.

Pasta party, day before the race. The day of the race, I could barely find a seat.

Another feature of the marathon weekend is the pasta party.  All runners (and spectators) can carb up before the race or chow down afterward on an American-sized bowl of pasta.  No rinky dink small, measured servings here.  I could barely finish it all.  And I ate mine after the race.

Pasta and sauce, ready to be cooked and served.

My boys stood near the route to shout, “Go, mama, go!”  I love that.  Maybe I can get it looped for four hours on my ipod.  That would surely get me through an entire marathon.

Where's Waldo?

And while my whole body is stark raving mad about me riding my bike to and from the Messe twice yesterday and standing on my feet for more hours than I dare count, I’m thinking seriously about changing my number to one.  One marathon.  One runner.  Once in my life.

 

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