5 Jul

The best part of a spectacular Independence Day was undoubtedly watching a certain someone watch the fireworks.

A fun thing happened yesterday on the way to the finish of my 22nd Peachtree Road Race. Actually, many fun things.

For the first time in our sweaty July 4th tradition, I ran (and walked) with my mom. To give you an idea of our seriousness of purpose, I’ll share my 65-year-old mother’s quote when calling my sister to arrange post-race pickup: “We’re at Mile 5 and we’ve already had two beers.”

I fared rather well for having pulled a calf muscle in mid-June and not knowing that I was going to run the 10k race until maybe 36-48 hours prior. Many thanks go to my bro, whose family smartly avoided the Atlanta heat and relinquished their road race numbers. That meant I was wearing a number that read “Louisa” for my oldest niece. When picking up my Peachtree t-shirt, the prized reward for finishing the race, in Piedmont Park, the lady crossed off my number and said, “There you go, Louisa.” I explained that it was my middle name.

(Whilst on the subject of the name game, my brother-in-law Chip was charged with selling the unused road race numbers. He found willing buyers in a group of young Hispanic males, who then ridiculed the member of their party who got stuck with the number that had “Penelope” on it. We agreed that poor muchacho had gotten a nickname to last a few years!)

I won’t tell you how long my mom and I ran to start the race, but I will say we passed at least five Starbucks on our trotting way. Kudos go to the following:

– the unaffiliated man handing out free beer along the race course and the Sweetwater Brewery station doing the same just a little while later

– the fireman running the race in full uniform, including an oxygen tank on his back, and the loud and proud group of racers wearing only patriotic speedos

– and, of course, all the hardworking road race volunteers

Happy Birthday, U.S.A!!!


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