Ten Miler, Tooty Tas, etc

This weekend was, in a word, nuts. Mostly because on Saturday morning, my husband and our friends Dana and Jason ran the Tarheel Ten Miler, a race that began on campus, snaked through town, and ended in Kenan Stadium, where they got to see themselves cross the finish line on the Jumbotron. (Well, Jason didn’t, as he ran it “bandit” style, meaning he wasn’t actually signed up and had to peel off before the end. So rogue, right?) The race began at 7:30, but we were all up at 5am to get ready. All I can say is thank God for caffeine. I was pretty much chugging coffee until I got to Starbucks around 7 and switched to a latte. Whew! I could have ran my own ten miles, I was so jacked up. Instead, though, I sat with Sasha on Franklin Street and cheered as they passed, then pushed the stroller over to the stadium for the big finish.

You would THINK that since I’ve lived here my entire life, went to school at UNC AND worked there, that I would know the right way to go into the stadium. You would be wrong. What can I say: basketball is my game, not football. Anyway, I ended up getting a serious workout dragging my stroller up several flights of stairs, walking around looking for ramps and alternative entrances, and cursing. (Cursing does burn calories, even if you do it in your head, right?) We finally got to the finish about two seconds before the announcer yelled my husband’s name, which meant he’d just entered the stadium. We abandoned the stroller and ran down to the bottom row of seats, where we were just in time to clap and cheer as he crossed the finish. And I have to say, even though he’s now run a full marathon, a half and a ten miler, it’s always really exciting to get to see him cross that finish line. We all need a cheering crowd pushing us on when we’re in the midst of a challenge, you know? I think I need my own cheering section to finish my next book, actually. Maybe I can hire one.

Much of the rest of the weekend was spent cursing my babysitter Amanda, who for some reason gave Sasha a CD of Dr. Jean songs. Which I now have to listen to in the car, on repeat, or listen to her scream for them. I honestly don’t know which is worse. Don’t get me wrong, I think her songs are really cute. The first TEN times or so. After that, it’s like some kind of military-style torture. I can’t find a clip of her doing Tooty-Ta—and you should be really, really, grateful for that—but if you watch a bit of this below you’ll get the general idea:

(All right, I love Amanda. But I do blame her for, like, the worst ear worm songs EVER.)

Now, imagine me driving around down, blasting these songs the way I once, long ago, played Led Zeppelin or Ben Lee. It’s just plain sad. I HAVE made some other mixes I can tolerate—with the Barenaked Ladies doing kids’ songs, and Gabba Gabba—but currently, all she wants is Dr. Jean. As a result, when I am alone, all I want is to listen to AC/DC really, really loud. I think I’m regressing, or something. Tooty-ta!

Finally, is it just me, or is a LOT happening tomorrow? It seems like everyone I’ve talked to has something big going on–closing on a first house, a pet getting some tests that are kind of scary, a surgery. It does seem like things always seem to happen at once. My mom is having her hip done tomorrow, so I’m thinking good thoughts for her, and for everyone else I know that could use a little positivity. If you’ve got something big scheduled, I wish you luck and that everything goes smoothly. And if you don’t…well, I just hope you don’t spill coffee on your shirt or lose your keys. It’s all relative.

Have a good night, everyone!

web tracking