It’s late Sunday night. Dunno, might be Monday morning. Oh, yeah, it is. I’ve got fiddle music playing low in the corner, and half a glass of red wine to my left hand. Adah and Digit are both sleeping, sensible creatures that they are. I’ve been catching up on my TV watching (doesn’t that make it sound onerous? It wasn’t). I had three Six Feet Unders stacked up, and Oh. My. God. That’s the only show during which I weep, and it’s not usually anything major that elicits the tears—it’s usually a glance between the siblings, or the mother sitting on a sofa, staring ahead. I’ve only had a total of one glass of wine—I can’t blame it on that. It’s just such a good show.
My friend Marama and I ran ten miles today. I know! I’m terribly impressed myself. It was actually ten miles plus a little—we didn’t have an exact mileage, but it was a bit over. I like to think it was four(ish) miles over, but it was probably more like a quarter-mile or so more than ten. We ran around Bayfarm Island and then out to the ferry terminal and back again. The best view in the world, I tell you. Long paths along grassy areas, nothing ahead of you but the bay and the San Francisco skyline, the Bay Bridge, and Alameda. Sailboats. Pelicans. One lone, tall heron. A million squirrels. A few bunnies. One jackrabbit. We saw more wildlife than I’ve seen in months. (It was a little unnerving, actually.)
Ten miles is a long way, yo. But it only took us two and a half hours, and that’s including stretching and bathroom breaks. That doesn’t sound too bad to me. Actually, sounds pretty damn good. Then, of course, I’m struck with the thought that while we were running, looking at the City, Mariko was running IN the city, in the Chronicle Marathon. I believe she finished the 26.2 miles in three hours and forty-three minutes, according to Joanna. Holy crap. I can guarantee you that had I run another hour and thirteen minutes, I would have completed maybe half that much. Can you imagine? She rocks!
She and Joanna and I went into the City (yes, it DOES have to be capitalized) yesterday afternoon.
Joanna was signed up for the 5K and Mariko for the full monty, and they both needed to pick up their packets. I just wanted to watch how registration went for a Great Big Marathon.
It was pretty cool, actually. Did you know there’s a computerized chip that you pick up, that tracks when you start and when you finish? And I’ve heard that you can actually track on line where a runner is in our marathon. I don’t know if I want to tell you all how to watch me run in December. You’ll see every pitstop I make….. Every time I sit on the sidewalk and cry….. Eh. Shaking it off. Okay.
Then of course, since we were downtown and Mariko had never been to Mecca (as Ann calls it), we had to make a journey. I bought nothing. Neither did Joanna. Mariko took care of that for us. Hee. (That’s the sound of the enabler’s guilty giggle.) Then we headed back to Oakland, where we hit Article Pract. I think I was the only one to buy anything there. I need to make a scarf for the lovely, lovely man who is selling me two tickets to Strawberry Music Festival, and I’m making a Secret Thingie, too. All to be revealed in good time. Cromarty works apace, although she seems to go NOWHERE. I’m about half-way done with the front, the last piece. And I made a pair of socks last week for my dear friend Trish’s birthday. They had been on the needles a while, but they flew off when I put my mind to it (that, strangely enough, was right about the same time I realized I had missed said birthday. Damn it). I have to tell you: Bernat Denim Style is fabulous for thick QUICK socks. Machine washable and dryable. Who knew? I just pulled one ball out of my stash, and I’m so happy I did. And no wrong can be found with Wendy’s pattern.
Ack! I forgot to list and thank the Skinny Rabbit for sponsoring me, too! How could I have missed that? She bowls me over on a continual basis with her knitting and her beautiful boy and her dancing, so thanks, Becky! Mwah!
Enough typing. I think I’m tired. Oh, yeah. Ten MILES! And the shins aren’t bad at all. Swear. Ya-hooo!
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