60 Epic Hours: Part III

Dear Laney,

This was just the coolest.

For Karen's last night in town, I had registered us for a 5K race: The Griz Glow. It's a nighttime glow-in-the-dark race around the University of Montana golf course, and it raises money for summer camps for kids. I thought a 5K sounded like fun - it's an actual race, so you get to tell people about it and sound semi-athletic - I'm 40 years old and I can still break into a trot! - but it's short enough (3.1 miles) that the average tourist at Opryland could drive it on a L'il Rascal scooter in under 40 minutes. Just our speed. Still, Karen and I wondered if we would embarrass ourselves among Missoula's notoriously outdoorsy/go-get-'em population. I mean, SOMEBODY has to come in last place at every race, and there was a strong possibility it would be us.

The day of the race, I got a robo-call from the race organizers that said I could register any child under 10 before the race at the registration table. So on a whim, I asked you if you might be up for running a 5K. You thought it was an awesome idea, and we set about putting on our glow make-up (you did mine):

We had glow bracelets and glow necklaces and flashlights.

Every half mile or so on the course, they'd have a "glow station" with some fun glow-in-the-dark element - University Athletic trainers fighting each other with light sabers, or a phosphorescent dance station, or even people twirling hula hoops of fire. 

Your dad and Hagen hung out at the finish line and waited for us.

I asked you after the first mile (and the second) if you wanted to quit and go sit with your dad, but you didn't. Man, was I proud. I wouldn't say we were speedy. There were a LOT of walk breaks, and a lot of complaining about "Oh, this makes my hips tired!" or "Woo! This is hard on my knees" from the elementary schooler on our team. In fact, at one point, Karen picked you up and gave you a piggy back ride between Mile #2 and #3. But still! We stayed on the course and we crossed the finish line and Dad and Hagen clapped and hooted for us, and the look on your face was priceless:

We did not come in last, though we WERE passed on the course by several energetic Missoula moms pushing strollers. 

We stopped on the way home for a bag of chicken tacos from Taco Bell (your favorite food in the world) to celebrate... and broke out in a victory dance while we waited for our order.

Karen left Missoula at 4am or so the next morning, probably feeling like she'd been hit by a truck. 

Love,

Mom