Run Like a Girl

I woke up this morning at 8:27. Not because a little boy was jumping on top of me. Not because a little girl was rhythmically demanding, Mommy...Mommy...Mommy...from her crib. For the first time in over three years I was awakened because I was finished sleeping. One might even go so far as to say I was refreshed. We ate cereal and drank coffee in bed. We were a couple of complete and total leisure.

Leisure time ended and we headed over to the Whitewater Center for a little trail running. Mark has done a lot of road running. A lot. But other than a little stretch of trail on the Grandfather Mountain Marathon he's never gone off-roading. Another thing Mark has done a lot of is make fun of my running. He has frequently referred to my running as prancing. I'm sure the fact that I like wearing running skirts these days isn[t doing me any favors in terms of de-girlyfying my sport of choice. My tip-toeing, tepetzying (I may not be spelling that right. That's Mark's fake word for putzing, dinking, messin' around), has been teasing-fodder since our courtin' days. Yes, I'm slow. No, I'm not competitive. But I like to think I've come a long way in taking the tee-hee-hee factor out of my running.

Our hour and ten minutes on the trails was marvelous. And it was hopping today, so we did a lot of jumping out of the way of whizzing mountain bikes. We started on the Trail of Joy. Wound our way around Carpet Trail. Looped Goat Hill. And for the first time, we encountered the Toilet Bowl Loop. Mark asked if we should run it. How do you not run the toilet bowl? So we did. We saw the bowl. It was upside down adorned with a bumper sticker demanding, Shut Up and Ride. Mark did an excellent job of keeping up. As he ran along. Behind me. (Walking a few times.) He passed (chortled, even) on bringing a water bottle. I was happy to share mine with him when he was sopping wet with sweat.

Just as we were back on the Main Trail and heading on to the parking lot, back to our children, back to our busy lives on busy streets, we ran into a biking fella. He had a two year old riding on the back of his bike. I could tell immediately from the ghostly look on his face that there was a problem. He asked if we'd seen a little boy on a red bike. We had not. On the verge of tears, he said that his five year old son took off down the path without him and he couldn't find him anywhere. Lots of people on bikes took off in different directions to find the boy. Mark and I headed back down the trail to see if we could find the him.

We were late to pick up the kids, so we left, feeling a pit in our stomach for what that man might be feeling. I can't imagine. Don't even want to think about it. And at that point, people were still looking for the little guy. I couldn't find anything about it in the news, so my only hope is that is the good news.

I missed my kiddies. I couldn't get enough hugs and kisses when we picked them up. They had a great time with Papa and HeHe--lots of treats, not much sleeping, and lots of good cuddling. And we ended our fun-filled weekend with some homemade eggplant lasagna (made with Heath's farmer's market eggplant) with his cousins. Another late night for Heath and Stella. Let's just hope they decide to sleep until at least 8:27 tomorrow.