When I started running, I said I did not plan to race. I was told that I would want to race once I got into running. I'm still not sure how "into" running I am. To me, it falls under the same category as brushing my teeth and getting a mammogram. (I think I feel more smug about it than I do about brushing my teeth, though, because, well, more people brush their teeth than run.)
I've signed up (or rather, the Pumpkin Daddy signed me up) for my first race. Before anyone tells me "I told you so," I should clarify that this is a parent-child pair 2k. I'm supposed to run with the Pumpkin Prince, so I'll have to get him to run a couple times a week so he can handle the distance.
Taxes are due on Tuesday...not done yet. Can't find my life insurance receipt. I'm thinking of cutting my losses and filing without it.
March 11 came and went. It's...sobering, watching the TV footage of cars being washed away on that day five years ago. And it's stressful, because it's part of the past, and you can't do anything about it. Maybe it's my civic duty to be stressed and upset once a year.