Though I am married to an ultramarathoner, there is no circumstance where I could be called an athlete. Active? Yes. Athletic? No.
So when Scott asked if I wanted to walk the Bay-to-Breakers race with him and Sophie my knee-jerk response was, “wouldn’t you rather run it instead?” (Meaning: you run it solo and I drink coffee at a sensible hour in my slippers at home.)
It’s rare when Scott enters a race where I can participate too. I don’t run and walking anything else he signs up for would be ludicrous by anyone’s definition.
And I have a special affinity for Bay-to-Breakers, going back to when I did it with my dad as a kid. It’s a day where freak flags fly for ~7.5 miles while tens of thousands of people make their way from the San Francisco Bay to the ocean. There are floats and costumes, live music and naked runners, always an Elvis contingent and spontaneous dancing in the middle of the road whenever one is inspired to do so. Regardless of how you participate, it’s always big fun.
So I agreed.
Not just because I knew I’d have fun (once I got there), but also because I want my kid to see me being active. I want her to feel that it’s good to get out there and do it your own way, whether you do it last minute like us (so very sadly sans costume this year) or in full Avatar body paint. The point is SHOW UP. Have fun doing it. And if you see a bare ass or two in the process, so be it.