Run P Run

Its 6:15 am on Sunday, and P getting ready to run the Vancouver Marathon. I'm barely awake, dragging my ass through the house while she buzzes around gathering her stuff. The Boy is still asleep - lucky him.

7:00 am
The Boy wakes up. As he's been doing for the past few weeks, he looks up at me from his crib and says, "Where's Mummy?"

"Mommy's gone running kid. We'll see her soon."

"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!"

"Mommy's not here. It's just us guys this morning. Won't that be fun?"

He stares at me blankly, "Toast?"

"That I can do."

9:00 am.
The Boy hides behind the curtain, which usually means a Big Job; he does likes his privacy when squeezing one out.

"Do you have to poo?"

"No"

Typically a No precedes a piping hot diaperload, so I know better. I place his potty behind the curtain, "Would you like to use the potty?"

"Potty!"

I get his pants off, sit him back down and draw the curtain around him. He might like his privacy, apparently he doesn't care if our neighbours have none. Those glass doors hide nothing.

10:30 am
We're waiting for P to run past so we can exchange fluids (only sounds naughty, unfortunately).

11:00 am
P finally arrives. Way under-dressed and verging on hypothermia, she's having a tough race. I pass her fresh water bottles, the iPod, and kiss her good luck. The Boy is snoring in the stroller.

12:30 pm
The Boy and I are inside the stadium at the finish line waiting for P. The smell of sweat and Tiger Balm hits us in the face like a baseball bat. "Suck it up kid, this is the smell of exercise." The Boy tears off down the field and returns with an orange safety cone on his head. Cute. I scan the stadium for the giant pit or live electrical wire the cone must have been alerting people to. I don't see any apparent dangers, security doesn't seem to care either.

1:00 pm
P is nowhere to be found, so we head to the washroom. The smell of sweat, Tiger Balm and Poo hits us in the face like two baseball bats. "And son, this is the consequence of eating too many sport gels." The Boy wrinkles his nose, but otherwise seems unfazed.

1:10 pm
Looking more refreshed than I would have thought possible, P emerges from the crowd.

"Mummy!" squeals The Boy and gives her a big hug.

"Congratulations on finishing Honey. Uh, you smell like Tiger Balm."

P: "Just a second, I have to use the washroom."