Any idiot can run

But it takes a special kind of idiot to run a marathon.

And idiots we were just but a few days ago in our hometown where we embarked upon the Milwaukee 26.2.  The whole craziness began with our mother's sole wish for her 50th birthday: that the three of us run the race together.   

She looks pretty good for 50, no?  You'd never know she's totally nuts enough to want to run her FOURTH marathon the day after she turned a half of a century old.

The ask was no big deal for Gretters who is a reborn gazelle with a love for a long monotonous road.  Unlike most college seniors who prepped for their senior black-tie dance by visiting the spa, admiring themselves in the mirror, or downing copious amounts of seasonal beverages, Gretters spent the day running the New Hampshire marathon.  By herself.  In the pouring rain.  In a trashbag.  AND finished in under 4 hours.  As of a year ago, I had yet to run more than 6 miles in one day.

We therefore approached our training regimes quite differently.  After constructing my full training schedule in excel complete with various calculations of my increase in mileage/average miles per week/etc, I took full advantage of San Francisco's plethora of beautiful running trails and sporty citizens - clocking at least 4 runs per week with cross training on days off, guaranteeing myself 8+ hours of sleep, and following the rules outlined in my stock of all running magazines known to womankind.  Gretters was instead clocking long hours at the office working on the advertising account for Hershey's chocolate.  Air Delight Chocolate Bars, Reese's Big Cups, and Almond Joy Pieces fueled her for late nights at the office and an occasional weekend run when she wasn't off pulling a 007 at the M&M Anniversary Party or like events. 

Chocolate + Little Sleep ≠ Good Marathon Training

Meanwhile, our overachiever of a mother went out and got herself injured whilst playing the ultra intense and physically demanding sport of - wait for it - golf.  While we debated ditching the whole thing all together, we decided to stick with it (after all, I'd expended quite some effort already) and run it in her honor. 

Fast forward to October 1 - our mom's 50th and the night before the big race.  My fabulous and stylish grandmother, whom we fondly call Kaka, threw a fabulous soiree.  The food - although not marathon friendly (beef tenderloin béarnaise, onion tarts, tomato with pea puree and a divine fudge chocolate cake for dessert) - was as fantastic as the free-flowing Veuve and classy company.  I wore the below little number paired with Tory Burch flats - I was by no means going to risk a sprained ankle in heels.

While I limited myself to two glasses of bubbly and loaded up on pasta, Gretters was throwing back glasses with ease and indulging in Kaka's top-notch menu.  She was flippant about her bedtime, her alarm clock timing, and her pre-race breakfast (mine had obviously been planned weeks before).  Given her relaxedness, I was pretty sure I was golden - of course, I'd keep pace with my overworked (and perhaps overserved) little sis. 


OR SO I THOUGHT.

The next morning:

GRETTERS:

ME:

Enough said. 

The story has a happy ending though - one complete with the marathon finish line, beers, and our dad's melt-in-your-mouth barbequed ribs.

Congrats on making it through this marathon of a blog post. 

xoxo KK