Bear Lake Marathon Highlights (and Lowlights)

A week ago, I was a nervous wreck. My husband was getting ready to run his 9th marathon. Well, he did, and here's a bit of good news: he finished, and he lived to tell about it! That's all that really matters, right? Actually, the race itself wasn't too bad. The weekend, however, wouldn't top my list for best vacations ever. But bad stories are good stories, right? Here's what went down in Bear Lake, Utah last weekend.

THE BAD...

• Husband and his brother think camping sounds like a fun way to spend the night before a marathon.
• Husband and brother think camping really close to a lake sounds like a fun way to camp.
• Husband and brother don't think about the thousands of Edward-esque mosquitos that will want my Bella-esque blood at said campsite.
• Husband and brother don't think it's worth an extra $13 to park both cars at the campsite.
  
• Husband informs me as he's setting up our tent that, oops, he forgot the tent poles!
• Husband thinks sleeping in the car with our two children sounds like a good alternative. I think eating our chicken parmigiana spaghetti foil dinners, and going home sounds better! Forget the darn race!
• Husband's brother graciously offers to let our family of four share a tent with his family of seven. Yes...that's eleven people in one tent, including two babies in two pac-n-plays.
• One of those babies (mine) decides that sleeping in a tent isn't her thing, around 1 am. All ten of us get to hear her scream for the next hour.
• Husband and brother awake at 4:45 am to run the race.

THE GOOD...

• 7 kids sleep until 7.
• Sister-in-law and I drive these 7 kids to find the runners.
• We arrive at mile 17 early, so I put my kids in the jogging stroller, and run to find the husband.
• We find him with bloody nipples at mile 15, and run with him to our car at mile 17.
• Husband requests that we run a little further...to mile 18.
• We run back to the car.
  
• We drive and stop at every subsequent mile...yes, we're supportive!.
• At mile 22, husband requests that we drive to mile 24 to accompany-run-push-and-possibly-drag him along the final 2 miles.
• We love him, so we do it.
• I cry as we cross the finish line, and feel guilty that I'm crossing it. I sure didn't run 26.2 miles! Hauling two kids in a stroller for 8 counts for something, I guess!
• Husband gets his 2nd worst time ever, but somehow wins 2nd place for his age group.
• We fall in love with the small marathon!
• We clean up camp and drive home.

Fun weekend, no?