Bonne Dimanche

Another great race today, the Marine Corps Historic Half. I was a course marshal at what turned out to be a particularly dicey corner--not made any better by the idiot food vendor truck that decided to park and block traffic for about thirty minutes. There were people lined up, frustrated, impatient, and rude. I totally understand the frustration but my wearing an orange vest and holding a plastic flag does not mean I am the designer of the course or the final authority on the road closures. I was appalled at one or two very ballsy types who decided to cross over the cones separating the driving lane from the runners' lane...they had somewhere to BE and the safety of the runners be damned. I had a few unpleasant words with one driver in particular who was determined not to move. Well, I wasn't going to move out of his way so he had no choice. Can you guess who won that battle? You betcha!

The unpleasant pieces of this morning aside, supporting the course and cheering the runners was fantastic. I saw lots of friends and enjoyed hooting and hollering and trying to joke and make that little stretch of the race a little more fun.

My hands are really tired, even now at 7:20PM, from the clapping and the exposure to the morning cold. My right ring finger has been spasming more than usual and with a little more--no, a lot more--intensity. During one spasm I had enough time to turn my hand around and look at it in all its ugliness and I saw the future. It made me very sad, and a little scared.

But. Now. Making dinner. Listening to This American Life (great episode, 328: What I Learned from Television). The smell of butter and tarragon are reminiscent of a great restaurant where I had a fantastic dinner. Can't be too sad when these happy things are around.