Mr. P’s parents dared from their halcyon existence in the south of France to visit us in Boston for the past week, to meet their newest grandchild and provide us with a few free days of childcare. A. seemed a little weirded out to be exposed to a new language — just when he feels comfortable enough with English to feel comfortable in general, here’s yet another strange, incomprehensible vocabulary filling the air, the fourth language he’s been surrounded by in his short life. And French, no less. The only universal word in the house was “No,” and boy, did A. use it a lot.
On Friday we drove up to Okemo Mountain Ski Resort in Vermont, where we stayed in a slope-side condo so that Mr. P and I could run (and walk, and eventually hobble) the Okemo Mountain Challenge on Saturday morning: up Okemo Mountain, then partially down, then up again, then back down for a total of 10 grueling miles. Surprisingly, I finished only 2 minutes after Mr. P. and placed 3rd in my division, earning me a trophy and Harpoon UFO t-shirt. I was the 5th female overall… which sounds impressive until I mention that there were only about 15 women who did the 10-mile distance (the majority of participants ran “only” 5k up the mountain). Here is a video of Mr. P and me, seconds after my surprise finish and ready to collapse: Video — Okemo Mountain Challenge Finish
Here’s me cresting the summit for the first time (really, I rapidly walked about 60% of the uphill — the jog was pure show for the spectators who took the ski lift to the top). In typical road races, I’m a bottom-of-the-pack runner, but I can hold my own in endurance events:
While we suffered in the race, Mr. P’s parents took A. on his first-ever trip up the ski lift… and he loved it! Good thing, too, because in the winter months he will be spending half his life on one. After the race, Mr. P and I took him back up to the top of Okemo Mountain:
A. was very excited by the whole event:
Me, three days later and I still have a dull ache in my quadriceps (which bore the brunt of my manically fast downhill stride when I just let-it-all-go) and a near-insatiable lusting for Harpoon beer (which was one of the race’s sponsors… what synergy!)
