Oh my, I haven’t quite woken up yet. Have you? I’m steadfastly raising the rim of the coffee mug toward my lips and swallowing its sumptuous liquid, but I’m afraid nothing’s happening. It tastes good, though. And that’s enough when you’re as close as my mug and me are. We’re best friends. No, really, we are. Look.
Yesterday was the Superbowl for almost everyone in America. For me, however, (and over 25k other people) it was the Huntington Beach Marathon. The amount of training that goes into preparing for such a feat is astonishing. Over the last few months my husband has taken to the pavement beneath pounding rain and blistering sun, through gale wind and dust clouds. The stretching alone counts for a twelfth of his day. He is always stretching. Sometimes I expect to come home and find him green and prolongated, transformed into Gumby after so many hours spent in a constant state of stretch. But it’s all necessary; it’s all part of the regimen designed to prepare the body, mind, and soul for the undertaking of a phenomenally physical adventure. And this was his THIRD marathon in under nine months! Crazy man.
The night before a race, most runners participate in what is called Carb Loading: an endeavor to stuff their bodies with as many carbs as possible. The good wife that I am, I did not allow my husband do this all alone. Oh, no. I was there for him, every step of the way.
He completed the 26.2 mile trek in four hours and fifteen minutes. Not his personal best, but not a bad time, I think! After that we came home and rested for a bit – he watched the Ducks game and I read in bed with Glennon Melton’s Carry on, Warrior. Then we headed down to my parents’ house for some white chicken chili, homemade rosemary rolls with butter and honey, and guacamole, complete with freshly crisped bacon bits. Bebowled and cozy, the four of us settled in to watch the game. Then, as most of you know, immediately came that terrible play which also as you know set the precedent for what is likely to be one of the worst Superbowl games in the history of Superbowls. I felt so sorry for the Broncos. It wasn’t a game; it was a massacre. We fast forwarded through most of it and watched the commercials. Any personal favorites? I’d love to know. Mine was the Budweiser commercial with the puppy and the Clydesdales. Got me right in the feelies. The Doritos time machine commercial was pretty funny too.
So here he is, my superstar, wearing all his medals from past races. I am over-the-moon proud of him. I love you, dear boy.
Happy Monday, my friends. I hope you are well!