#bearathon

Bearathon. The Hardest Half-Marathon in Texas…

Woot! There is another item off of my 30 Before 30. My friend (and sorority sister), Brittany and I just ran the Baylor University Bearathon, also known  as the “Hardest Half in Texas.”

It was pouring down rain when the race first began, but luckily it let up when we were about halfway through. You wouldn’t think that Waco would have a tough half, but miles 6-9 have some intense elevation…

March 22, 2014

College Saturdays are the best.

I wake up under a pile of down comforter and old Amish quilt and eye my watch: nope, not late enough yet.

Catch another thirty minutes of quality snooze time...and I am convinced the best mornings are the alarm-less ones. Friday nights usually run good and late, snuggled up and chatting with best friends and favourite people, so Saturdays are, without a doubt, meant for sleeping in.

It's 8 or so, and I flip on the soft light of the vintage lamp on my nightstand, check my phone, and let out a big, long stretch-yawn. It's overcast. I can hear both birds and cheering in the distance. 

Cheering.

Because it's Bearathon Saturday.

I pull Grandpa's old flannel off its hook on the wall and button it up, all long and baggy, over the pajamas Jake gave me for Christmas. I grab an old wood-slated, canvas-backed lawn chair and nestle in at the end of the steep driveway of this woodsy home I love.

The first runners pass; I smile and cheer. Elijah, Joey, Chris--how fun! Not knowing who is going to be running, I am surprised every 2.4 seconds by a new familiar face.

An old grandpa-man gives an encouraging, "best pajamas I've ever seen!" shout, and more than one middle-aged woman asks if I want to trade spots--and why don't I have coffee, they all wonder.

Two buddies give each other a brotherly fist pump, here at mile eight, and a Penguin-suit guy runs back and forth in a stellar performance meant to boost morale. It seems to be working.

Drew, Sam, Sarah Guhl, Jeremiah from Moderns, David Stevenson (Mr. Baylor)--lots of cheers and "go, go, go!" shouting.

A dad and his little boy sit in the driveway next door, waiting for Mama to pass by. The boy sees her and his little toddler-legs run to her arms. "Mama, Mama, Mama!" She pulls out and spins him around in the sweetest  embrace. Drops out of the race, loses her spot, and tacks minutes onto her time...to give her baby a hug. I think we could all do a little more race-ditching for hug-giving. 

Cameron from Anatomy, Emily from Crew, Marie, Corrine, and Mason. Kaitlinn and Lydia-- so many friends doing such a great job.

Our darling Sarah runs by, and Bree arrives just in time, and we run with her for 1/4 mile or so--me in my sexy oversized-flannel and flowery pajamas and Bree in her running gear--and then I turn around and head back to my beloved driveway spot, laughing my way past many-a-runner jesting, "you're going the wrong way!" Yeah, me in my pajamas and green clogs...going the wrong way.

The old and the young and the middle-aged, and everyone in between. The slow, the fast; the happy, the downcast. The runners and the try-best-ers. The ones with all the gear and those who look like they just rolled out of bed. The shufflers and the striders. The huffer-puffers and the six-packed, shirtless men. The insanely fit elderly couples and the overweight trying to shed a few pounds--valiantly. People from far away and those who have run this thing for more years than I've been alive. And everyone with one, singular goal--to run 13.1 miles and cross the finish line, victorious. Races are beautiful events, folks.

The last of the runners passes, and Bree heads to the finish line, and Caitlin and Ford sweep behind the last of the last. And I throw on real people clothes and scarf a bowl of breakfast and race off to donate platelets.

College Saturday mornings.

The best of the best.

I hope you all have a had a relaxing weekend!