I was the water girl in high school. I took stats. I ran the time clock, cleaned locker rooms and laundered, organized and stored jerseys in numerical order with matching hangers. Are you shocked by any of this?
This weekend, Sister had her 20-mile training run. I got to go along. She sold it to me like this:
"Laura, on the Saturday that you'll be in Lincoln I have to go on a 20-mile run. Are you going to come along?"
"You can ride a bike while I run."
"Oh. OK. I should be able to handle biking the same amount of time as you run."
"Great. You can be my pack mule."
"Pack mule?! This sounds less fun."
"You'll just carry my snacks and drinks in a bag that attaches to the bike. You can bring your camera."
*snacks? juice? camera?*
Today, we set off on our 20 mile journey. Sister led the way.
Then there was a pretty little bridge.
Sister ran over it.There was pretty stuff, too.
Guess what Sister was doing?
Yup. Still running. Notice how much further ahead of me she is getting. I didn't notice that at the time, so I stopped to enjoy some more scenery.
Ah! Peddle faster, Laura! Faster!
After a couple miles topping Earth-shattering speed of 13 mph she was back in sight, although smothered by a cloud of train smoke.
Fruit Smiles might be one of my all-time favorite snacks. I stopped to fully enjoy their sweet, smiley goodness.
But don't worry, Sister was still... oh crap. She's not running anymore.
Don't worry, we go her back on the road, hydrated, re-fueled and running like the wind.
Round about mile 18,5, I finally caught up with her by the tulips.
She was looking for her pack mule again. Ooops.