The tale of 3Ks in a 5k

Not much to blog about today.

Got up. Had coffee. Looked at the pictures in the local paper. Wrote my "Deja Vu, It's Algera 2! that nobody watches" show, donned my perpetually stinky running shorts. Put the free $10 shirts onto my two kids, had some more coffee, loaded the car, headed toward the local park, noticed the beautiful 58 degree sunshiny morning in Texas, parked at the Little League Fields adjacent to the park, waved a car travelling approximately 8.3 miles over the 30 mph posted speed limit passed my family before crossing the street to the park, instructed an ambitious, running NBHS cross-country student toward the late-registration booth for the morning race, crossed a street in the park as we waved to my in-laws who happened to be the next at stop sign in their car, found a bench with bird-poop and a half-finished "Tiger Red Drive" Gatorade, sat and watched the other 5kers walk about doing their thing, welcomed my recently seen in-laws who were their to watch me and their grandkids run the race to my aforementioned table, reassured my son that he didn't want to start his .5K race too fast, headed down to the 5K starting point, began the race at the front of the pack (got some good video and pics from my family), started the race too fast (trying to keep up with the obvious winner who was dressed in green and red running clothes that looked like it was left over from the "Christmas in Beruit 1-time Marathon"), settled into my pace, got passed by two people (one of which was a 13 year-old), ran faster than I wanted to, passed two people, came down the stretch smiling for my family as they filmed me with their camera, acknowledged the accolades of my son (I'm his hero), finished the race in my best time ever (22min. 56sec for 3.1 miles), grabbed the complementary banana half, oranges and two waters, met my family, gave sweaty hugs to all, visited awkwardly with other people, lined up with my kids for the .5K, ran the race with my daughter's small hand in mine while we acknowledged how fast my son was (who was at least .002 K in front of us), gave hugs and posed for pics at the finish line with my kids, went home, showered, then went to a party for the neighbor at Chuck-E-Cheese's (arriving late), played for two hours while holding my ears amidst the clamour, then dropped the kids off at the grandparents house, came home watched the video of the race and looked at the pics my family captured, commented on how fast and slow I was, worked in my shop a bit, then relaxed in front of the boob-tube, tried to watch a bad movie, turned it off, watched a bit of TV, then woke up much later with TV on only to turn it off and finish this blog.