Running Late...

Otherwise known as Yeah, I Really Am Sappy That Way...

On Saturday, after a fine Southern breakfast at my favorite breakfast haunt in My Small Town and a bit of introduction into my Small Town world, my friend Mac and I attended the Run Disney Expo at the Wide World of Sports on Disney property.  I was in his world.  The running world.  Everything one could imagine in the sport of running was available... shoes, belts that hold power bars and electrolyte-replenishers, even funky magnets that miraculously keep one balanced in the face of imbalance.  And the clothes!  Every kind of shirt with a funny saying pertaining to running (in the case of this particular race... Will Run for Beer was a popular theme), every kind of hair apparatus, and every kind of sock, guaranteed to wick away sweat contributing to a blister-free run was available.  Oikos was on hand giving out free samples (a power breakfast followed by Greek yogurt is a no-brainer!), as was Chiquita bananas, and free bags of apple slices.  Do you want some apples, Jen?

I don't believe in sliced apples in a bag.

Oh, they do exist, I assure you.

And on it went.  We passed a counter hawking a variety of beverages.  I ordered a bottle of water.  Mac asked for Diet Coke.  (Because, you know, there's no better liquid prior to running 13.1 miles than a diuretic!)  I kept my big mouth shut.  He's a grown man and can drink what he wants.  Besides, it was still a good eight hours before he'd be running.  As soon as the sales person gave us the bottles of our respective drinks of choice, Mac paid for them, grabbed my bottle of water, and opened it.

Hey... thanks!  You didn't have to do that.

Jen, that's what nice guys do.

Yeah... really... he didn't need to do any more convincing.  I already knew he was a nice guy. 

Sigh. 

We made our rounds-- Mac picked up a belt for a guy he works with who is a hard-core triathlete, a power bar for himself, and his complimentary Wine and Dine shirt, as well as his bag o' gear for the race.  His number, race information, etc.  We left, eager to have a bit of downtime together before he left for the race.  We were halfway to my car when Mac realized he had forgotten to buy a 13.1 magnet.  His last magnet had been victim to an overzealous car wash.  In the running world, the car magnet-- no matter what the distance-- is an important symbol of endurance, pain, and joy.

Do you mind if we go back?  I really want that magnet.

No problem!  We still have plenty of time before the race.

Back to the expo we returned, then back to the car.  It was a good little walk.  We drove to his hotel, and collapsed for a few hours.  It was going to be a long night; rest was essential before the adventure.  A few hours later, we grabbed a quick pre-race meal at Panera Bread.  After we ate, we returned to his room, and Mac called his father to check in.  While they were talking, Mac told his dad he was in Orlando with a date.  His dad asked if I was running too.  Tell her I like fast women!

I think I know where Mac gets his sense of humor. 

When we returned to his room, Mac got his game face on, and left to catch the Disney bus to his corral.  Corral A.  Yeah... he's kind of fast.  I guess I like fast men, too.

That night, I caught the bus to Epcot at 10 pm., and met up with my friend's husband and a couple of their friends who also had spouses running in the race.  It was fun to cut loose and enjoy ourselves for a couple of hours while we waited for a our respective people to finish the race.  Every 25-30 minutes, I would get a text message letting me know Mac's progress. 

Just after midnight I got a text saying that he had finished.  I made made my way to the front of the park, and waited with the rest of the supporters of the half-marathoners.  It felt very much like an airport baggage claim area.  We were all lined up, a few people deep, ready to claim our... runner.  Mac started texting me, letting me know of his own post-race progress, making his way back to me. 

And he did.

The rest of the evening (the two hours we enjoyed the crazy, overcrowded after-party), every time we started walking and we had been apart, Mac held his hand out for me to hold.  It was really nice.

I love having a hand to hold.  I'm sappy that way.

The next day as I took Mac back to the airport I uncharacteristically made a wrong turn.  It allowed for a few extra minutes with Mac, but inwardly stressed me out.  I didn't want to get him to the airport short on time to catch his flight. 

Jen, I have plenty of time.  I don't have any bags to check.

Yeah... but I don't want to make you run late... no pun intended.

We grinned.  It was the end of a most excellent weekend that ran... right on time.


Addendum:  The author has decided (in the spirit of knowing what kind of eggs she likes) that for now, she will not register for any half-marathons.  She will begin reincorporate her favorite pair of Asics into her life, because after all... it is beginning to get too cool to swim laps in the pool.  It's a trade off.  She's off and running... at her own pace, in her own time, for as long-- or short-- as she wants to go.