The Final (?) Chuys 5K

Bottled coffee because 6AM is early for me.
Half a banana.
5K in 35 minutes and change (official time unavailable so far). Slacker, I know. but I haven't been able to run much the last few months.
Krispy Kreme. Banana. Water. Reconnecting with old Chuys friends at different locations now.
Ibuprofen. Hot tub. Soreness abating.

The final (probably) Chuys 5K for the Special Olympics is gone. A good time was had by nearly all. A couple of little kids were melting down, but with that many people, that's not bad at all. Highlights:

• People passing me, pushing single and double strollers with kids in them.
• Tall, long legged guys, idling effortlessly past me. I never saw them again. They probably started actually running and went back in time.
• One of them was whistling. A half mile into the race, he passed me, whistling a tune. like he was moseying without a care in the world. Cool moustache, too.
• Two eight year old girls passing me, then slowing to a walk, not really out of breath. As I passed them, "You really gonna let an old guy beat you?" Thirty seconds later they passed me, grinning back until they were sure I saw them.
• Big busted women passing me at a good clip, bouncing more than my belly did even when it was much bigger than it is now. They were clearly not wearing sports bras. That has to hurt, and it's not healthy. Don't do this.
• A guy with at least 75 pounds on me, sweating, walking pretty fast the other way. "Yeah, I already finished." True or false? No idea. I assume it was true, and good for him.
• Really nice cops doing traffic control. When we thanked them, they almost always thanked us back.
• Sharon walked it, and knocked a few minutes off her usual time, probably because she was alone instead of walking with someone to talk to.
• A mariachi band at the finish line. Playing Beatles tunes.
• After the finish line, I met a lady who looked a few years older than me, with purple hair and a shirt to match. "I've never run one of these. I trained with an app; I never broke 54 minutes. Today I ran it in 41!" We fist bumped. I would have hugged her but I was a lot sweatier. (I probably should have offered.) You generally don't know what you're capable of until you try it for real.
• We met the 14 year old daughter of one of Chuys top managers (now in charge of training and opening new stores). I recall the mom, Lisa, managing a Chuys while pregnant. The daughter now takes classes from two of Lisa's favorite customers from back then.
• They raffled off a dozen or so prizes. A woman won a $250 gift basket. A couple of tickets later her husband won dinner for four at Chuys. Good day for them!
• There was no booth with race times displayed or posted, and they couldn't declare winners. They'll do that later and notify them how to get their awards. Kind of a bummer, especially for those who came in from other towns for the race. (One year the winner of the 80-89 year old mens' bracket (who beat my best 5k time ever) had come up from Port Arthur. He had lived here back when there were only two Chuys on the planet, which is when I first moved here.)
• It's always kind of a hoot to find out how many people a good deal older than me blew my time out the window.
• Ditto kids. A few years ago some 10 or 12 year olds ran the whole thing in just over 12 minutes, if I recall correctly. I ran my first mile today in that time. My best time ever was over twice that.
• A group of ladies in sparkly tutus and tiaras.
• A dog in a bright blue tutu.
• Whole families, from greats to grands to parents to kids, all running.
• I didn't see any of my runner friends. That was a surprise.

Once upon a time, there were not many races in Austin. When Chuys started their 5K to support the Texas Special Olympics, there was maybe a race a month here, if that. Now there are often several each weekend. But the race takes a lot of time and energy to put on. So Chuys plans to come up with something different to help out the TSO. They'll probably expand the Thanksgiving Parade a bit as well.

Thanks, Chuys, for all you do. Thanks, Brooke and team, for the great work. Chuys: great food, great atmosphere, even greater people. You're awesome, and we love you, and all the Special Olympian and their families, friends, and supporters. Hugs for everyone!

Late night return trip musings

I just dropped Kayla and Lauren off after a late dinner and coffee shop road trip. It's 1:30AM, 70 degrees Fahrenheit, with lots of "Watch for ice on bridge" signs. At this end of Ronald Reagan Parkway there is no light pollution at all. On a long series of gradual hills, my headlights probe the darkness, finding nothing where the road seems to fall off into space. There is nothing obviously to either side, either, only darkness. Black Sabbath's "Into the Void" would be the perfect soundtrack.

I'm hyper-caffeinated and tired, so every second of nothing stretches out into forever. The road goes ever on. I may be home in twenty minutes; I may be tumbling through the void. In the latter case, I'll enjoy it til the caffeine wears off or the air runs out. All of these lead to sleep, which is all I want right this minute.

"Watch for ice on bridge". Maybe the signs have had too much caffeine; they're clearly hallucinating.

And When I Die... When I'm Dead, Dead and Gone

I've meant to write this up for a while. Thanks to Caryn Werner for inspiring me to just do it!

Most funerals annoy me. Funerals are supposed to be for the living, but so many are depressing. I'm not saying everyone needs to have a funeral like I want mine to be... well, maybe I am!

I think the Irish (among others) were on the right track with a wake, a party. Not getting drunk, per se, but just having a party, celebrating the good times, the memories, the things that mattered about a person. Laughing at their foibles. Stuff like that.

Rather than focusing on the fact they're physically gone, focus on who they were and what they meant-- and mean to you. Let them live in, with, and through you!

I need to update the list of what I want at my funeral. Sharon knows some things, but the details change.

1. No black, unless you're really old or a goth or something. Everyone else wearing dark or boring clothes gets handed a bright tee shirt at the door they have to wear over their other clothes. Best to wear tie dye, Hawaiian shirts, etc. Bathing suits are fine. For all I care, show up in your birthday suit, but that might be more hassle than it's worth; this is an all ages event.
2. If you walk around with a sad face, prepare to get hugged, tickled, pranked, or told funny stuff.
3. Everyone should leave with something of mine that means something to them. There is to be no actual fighting over things like the Darth Vader Mr Potato Head, but if multiple people want something contests are encouraged. This can be anything from a game of cards to a backward skipping race to a duel with fun noodles (impartial judges shall decide the victor, or an objective rule such as whoever's noodle is biggest after a one minute match shall apply). All parties must agree to the terms beforehand.
4. Everyone has to play spoons, the Mad Magazine board game, or something else fun and rowdy, for at least 15 minutes. Farting contests count.
5. There will be music, and it will be neither solemn nor sad. Sharon has input on the music, but I don't want more than two classic hymns. Petra's _Graverobber_ must be played. There should be at least one live band or singer/guitarist, etc... the more the merrier.
6. Unless forbidden by law (and maybe even then) there must be fireworks.
7. Food! Including Chuys. And good coffee. And desserts.
8. Side parties at a shooting range are encouraged.
9. A bonfire really wants to participate.
10. Hugs. Everyone gets lots and lots of hugs.
11. Crying and laughing are both encouraged.
12. Share your stories!

Ideally, there would be a life size cutout of me somewhere, thumbing my nose at Microsoft, big government, and bad food.

I would prefer to be cremated since the state frowns on using human remains to fertilize the flowers. Preferably in a cheap pine box. Spare no expense-- but not for my dead flesh. Go as cheaply as possible there, and spend the money on those who need it. Some of it should go to Albania.

Afterward, everyone should go hug 6th Street, Albania, Muslims, someone who needs it.

If you must have a memorial, it should have a roadkill symbol.

God willing, this is a long ways off (I fully expect to see you all at my 111th birthday party under the Party Tree!), but I think you ought to know what to expect.