See M run

M ran a 50-mile race last Saturday.  Yes, you read that right.  No, I did not mean to type "5-mile."  Nor did I mean to type 50 kilometer.  I meant 50 miles.  Normal people do not do this.  Normal people cannot do this.  And in my (normal) opinion, normal people should not want to do this.  But he did.  It was 50 miles at high elevation, some of it along the continental divide.  There were many many stream crossings.  There were places where the trail was so steep it was possible only to walk, not run.  There were places where there was no trail, just scree fields.  C.R.A.Z.Y.

Here he is coming into the finish:

He's not even crawling! Or sobbing! He even had enough strength left to pick up Z as he crossed the line:

We saw him twice along the course. At mile 15.7, around 8:30 in the morning, where the kids had a nice picnic breakfast while we waited:

The second time we saw him was at mile 40, around 4:00 in the afternoon. The plan had been for me to pace him from there to the finish, but my ankle is still hurting and I haven't run so much as one mile for three weeks now. Sad. But that's another story. Anyway, I probably would have slowed him down, because somehow he got a second wind and ran the last ten miles pretty fast.

The moral of this story: M is a bad ass. And slightly crazy.

I pity the fool

Before and after:

Yes, I realize the "after" shot looks like a mug shot. It was his idea, but he didn't like it until about two days after we did it. Now that all the boys in Z's preschool want mohawks too, he's decided it's pretty cool after all.  I'll try to get a happier-looking shot, one that captures the spirit of the 'do, in the next few days.

During:

Z's field day

Today it was Z's turn to have a field day.  Her school is for kids aged 18 months thru kindergarten entry, so it not quite the same as B's.  A lot less organization, but still a lot of fun.  She did a lot of random running around:

And B excelled at the obstacle course, setting a course record for the day

I won the sack race (only because nobody but me was racing):

B and I ran the three-legged race, with Z along for support:

And it wouldn't be field day if your dad didn't knock you to the ground and tickle you until you begged for mercy:

And even though it was a "baby" field day, B played along graciously and had a good time. Here he is explaining to Z all the events she's done, all marked with stickers on her ribbon: