Today, though, was absurd.
The Dirty Bird was what we thought we were waking up to do this morning. We drove and drove to French Creek State Park (about an hour away) and when we got there it was us and a bunch of hunters and shotguns. Did we sign up for The Most Dangerous Game by mistake?
When we got to the start area, nothing except an empty tent. And worms for sale from a vending machine.
|Thanks to this convenient machine we |
grabbed lunch after our run.
|Looks like something fun might occur here at some point|
But not on November 27.
Bill: Hey, I love you.
Me: What did you do?
Bill: The race is tomorrow.
For about 4 minutes I was pretty pissed. And then I got over it.
Since we drove all that way we decided to run anyway. We ended up doing about 6 miles and had the entire park to ourselves except for the hunters in trees shooting at things.
When we got home, Bill checked his planner. In giant letters under Saturday, November 27, it said this: DIRTY BIRD 15k TRAIL RUN.
Why did we insist this race was on Saturday? Why are we dumb?
Tomorrow: The Dirty Bird. For real this time.