Technically, it took me two and a half hours to run/walk the 6.2 mile course through the heart of Atlanta. The actual time was not as bad as it sounds. I spent an hour and a half at the starting line, near the Borders where we take Claire for story time with Miss Wendy on Saturdays. I was waiting for 50,000 runners to get going ahead of me. I had made the mistake of entering in the “casual runner and walker” section, which put me in the last section of the race, the “heart and soul of the Peachtree” someone said on a loudspeaker as we finally crossed the starting line. I could have gone a little quicker if there weren’t so many slow people in my way!
That’s nice, you may say, but this is Claire’s blog. What does this have to do with Claire?
Well, in a way, she got me into the race. You see, the first two years we lived in Atlanta, we ignored the Peachtree Road Race entirely, even though it runs only a mile or two from our house. Last year, because we had Claire to entertain and did not have the viable option of sitting around the house on our keesters, we went to watch the race from the sidelines in Peachtree Hills. It was amazing to watch the sea of humanity pass down Peachtree Road, all types of people sweating, smiling, some in costumes, many dumping water on their own heads. I was impressed, and I said aloud that it would be fun to actually do the race next year, before we (maybe) move. Of course, I was not in running shape, and it seemed basically impossible to run six miles. Besides, just getting a number in the race was tough. It was just a nice (abstract) comment.
A few months later, Kit showed up with an application from the Emory hospital. I could get into the race as an Emory spouse. How could I pass this up?
After a very untimely knee injury and the ensuing three week “accelerated” training regimen (at nights after Claire was asleep), I finally made it to the Peachtree sort of in shape and had lots of fun in the race. If not for Claire getting us out of the house, we would have never seen the big race much less been in it. Thanks, Claire, for getting me off my butt.