I just had to email a great big THANK YOU, as you may
well have saved me from some major distress. How, you
may ask? Well, I was browsing through your blog
archives while knotting this evening, and I hit the
entry about your running the SF 1/2 marathon last
year. While I reading your description of the course,
I said to my husband that the course seemed to run
right near our place (we live on Stockton St, about 3
blocks inland from Pier 39).
Then I looked at the date on the entry: August 1.
Hey, that’s soon! Hmmm, I wonder if this year’s
marathon is the same weekend…..
So I locate the marathon homepage, and there’s the
date: July 30. Which happens to be the very same day
that I have to catch a rather important flight at SFO
(flying back East on business, but also to see all my
friends that I moved 3000 miles away from 6 months
back, and Sunday is the day we can all get together).
And to get to the airport, we use the Embarcadero,
which will be closed as of 4 AM (which I also gleaned
from your post).
So anyway, thanks to your post we now have an
alternate route planned, and will leave a little
earlier, and I will not, in fact, be having a
freakout at 5 AM on the 30th. This is a good thing
for me, and an even better one for the husband.
This even makes up for your reducing me to
sentimental, PMS-enhanced tears when you wrote about
your wedding (the husband and I just celebrated our
first anniversary, so I have a soft spot for newlyweds
My best to your lovely wife, and good luck on the half
marathon, if you end up running again
—Amanda, grateful blogfan across the Bay
Isn’t she great? And how much do I get that late-to-the-airport terror? I have three recurring nightmares: 1) Can’t get to the airport, watching the clock tick past the appointed time, still packing and looking for passport; 2) Being on the beach and watching a tsunami getting closer and closer, being able to grab onto the cliff with one hand, and only able to grab one other loved one with the other, watching the others being swept away; 3) I know I have another one but I can’t remember it. It’s 3:16 in the wee sma’s, for god’s sake. Wait, that might be it.
So I’m pleased I helped someone not be late to the airport. And a nice someone, at that.
Now, about that 1/2 Marathon. Let’s talk. So I got the weekend off work. Blessed trades and overtime. The day before the run is Lambtown. I HAVE to go to Lambtown, because there will be not only fiber, but dog trials, with sheep. Border collies chasing sheep. I have always loved dog trials, but this year I will be out of my mind about them, since I have a little sheep-herder of my own at home. So look for me hanging onto the ring rails, waiting for the next round to begin.
And that night, the night before the race, the Whoreshoes are playing Bolinas. Y’all know how I feel about Bolinas — the old saloon, the girls playing their music to the local beach bums and poets and musicians and whatever random people wander in from whichever wedding happens to be occurring in town. One time we slept on the outside balcony on an air mattress, and woke in the sun to the smell of eggs and barbecued oysters. You can camp on the beach for free with your dogs (which we may do if I don’t get around to making a reservation soon-like). (Oh! We have a station wagon! What do you think it would be like, two gals sleeping in a station wagon with three dogs? Yeah, maybe you’re right.)
I’ve missed the last two Bolinas shows, and I don’t wanna miss this one. So, explain to me how I’m going to fondle fiber, watch dogs work sheep all day, drink and dance all night and then run 13.1 miles the next morning? Nope. No 1/2 Marathon for me this year. Or at least not this one.
Also, I haven’t run in like a month. That may have something to do with my decision.
Okay, nah. It doesn’t. I just want to watch dogs and dance to m’girl’s music. There you go.
So, Amanda, we’ll both avoid the marathon at the end of the month, shall we? Good.
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