Allow me a moment in the sun. Allow me one bright shining moment of entirely unreasonable hope. Rivera’s blown four saves in a row against the Red Sox, Boston actually managed to win one against Steinbrenner’s cursed pinstripers and then there’s this:
But I digress.
I imagine most men would be delighted by the prospect of spending a weekend with three beautiful women. I also imagine those men have never enjoyed that singular experience. Lucky for me, I am a generally patient man and fond of my late companions.
The weekend started with a dash through a monsoon to my favorite city – Washington, D.C. – to meet up with the afore-mentioned lassies so we could all prepare ourselves for the ordeal to come.
The ordeal was a ten-mile race that they, not I, were running. I have more goddamned sense than that. Here’s my crowd before:
and after:
Doesn’t that look like fun?
The Cherry Blossom Ten Mile Run is run every year from the general vicinity of FDR’s monument on the Potomac to Arlington, then to Georgetown and back.
This year we were all lucky enough to endure gusts of up to 50 miles per hour and wet, frigid temperatures. The runners, naturally, had to deal with a lot more. Still, I had fun. I suppose the runners had fun. Hell, some of them were even smiling as they neared the one-third point:
While the others were off on the long leg of their jaunt I wandered about looking for a windbreak. The summit of the Lincoln Memorial may not have been the best choice but it did offer a spectacular view of a pretty bleak scene.
And I got to see one of my favorite monuments. No heroism here, just a stark tribute to the grunts who do the dirty work: unheralded, unknown but not forgotten.
Between getting up at 5 AM, watching the race and witnessing the aftermath, resting for a while and watching a truly annoying Opening Day pinstripe triumph I slept the sleep of the just. Only to wake up at 8 AM and hit the road for the next part of my adventure.
Finally, some real baseball!
Finally, some nice weather!