Ever have an idea that seems great at the time, but later it seems less than desirable?
Well, that is the situation I found myself in this morning.
I had told, Ruthie and my Dad, we would participate in a 5K color run.
It seemed like a fine idea several weeks ago…Before the weather forecast became available…Before I realized they were predicting it to be 38 degrees at race time. Brrr…
Despite the cool weather conditions, we proceeded to the race (with gloves and hand warmers, of course).
This was us, prior to our departure this morning.
We left knowing we would look much different after the run. After all, this was a color run (the Franklin St. Color Me Fun 5K to be exact).
We had signed up to run in the cold, and allow people to throw dry “paint” on us. OK, so this may have been the part were I was slightly regretting this whole idea. Nonetheless, we found ourselves at the starting line holding packets of the dry “paint”.
Before the start of the race, all the participants threw the paint in the air.
And then the run began.
Like most things, it started off wonderfully.
We ran down Franklin Street and back with no problem. Our attire was becoming more colorful with each passing paint station, in which volunteers threw more dry paint at us. The finish line was insight.
And this would be when the problem arose. We weren’t done. We needed to run down Franklin Street and back once more, then we would be finished.
Try explaining that to an 8-year old. More specifically, try explaining that to Ruthie.
She was ready to quit.
We had a difference of opinion. I strongly believe, quitting is NOT an option.
We, however, managed to make our way down Franklin Street. Slowly, I might add, but at least we were making progress.
That is until she began to cry, and refused to proceed forward, certain that death was imminent.
I was becoming more irritated by the second. And unfortunately for her, she was in the middle of a paint station, with her mouth wide open as she sobbed. Suddenly, she was plastered with paint, and her entire mouth became full of dry paint.
Let’s just say this did NOT help the situation any. And let’s just say if you happened to see me in that moment, that was NOT parenting at its finest.
The finish line was less than a block away.
Amazingly, we finished.
And five minutes later, steam stopped escaping from my ears and a smile reappeared on Ruthie’s face.
She survived the race…and the wrath of me.
She was one happy girl.
from her hair,
to her ear,
to her toes!
Only At My House,
*And in case you are wondering…Ruthie made a full recovery.
**She is even contemplating doing another race.
***Heaven help me!