Well, I’ve been praying a lot lately
It’s because I no longer have a TV
— the prophet mark eitzel
Char and I are walking from the parking lot to the track. It’s early evening, that magical time between when the sun goes down and the crazy Scottsdale party people try to run you over. As we step into the lights, I ask her.
“Is this the first time you’ve ever gone to a college track wearing a banana costume?”
“I think so,” she says. One more off the bucket list.
I’m running a mile in a Random Act of Silliness. I have an I heart Monster Mash tattoo, a racing pumpkin, an unlucky bib. Char has a bib and the sort of fearless craziness that got her past my strict No Friends Rule. “Hey, Char. Wanna wear a banana costume and go to the track?” “Sure. Should I bring a sweater?” What more could you ask in a friend?
There’s a group working out on the front stretch. They have a personal trainer who is torturing them, so it’s fun to watch. We get one of them to take a photo of us before the event. We sit for a minute, discussing Rachel Maddow’s show tonight and tomorrow’s scary agenda, and then I’m off.
I went with a Lightweight Racing Pumpkin, so it’s not hard to run with him except the sunglasses are a little iffy. Who knew pumpkins didn’t have ears? The weather has cooled off here in the last few days, making the banana more comfy than I had expected. And the lights are on all around the track, an unexpected treat. I always expect to get killed by a crazy guy on the back stretch. I am mildly disappointed, having imagined the “Banana attacked on track” headline. Oh, well.
The run is fine. While I’m running, Char strikes up a conversation with the personal trainer. He wants to know what I’m doing. Some event, she shrugs. She asks what HE’S doing. Personal trainer, he says. So you teach them to run? They don’t know how? He doesn’t have an acceptable answer and goes back to yelling at them. KEEP YOUR BUTT DOWN!!! Char puzzles over that one. She wants to know how you keep your butt down, and isn’t sure whether hers is up or not. I assure her I don’t know.
And then, like a bowl of fun-size Hershey bars, it’s over. She gets a photo of me finishing up. We light the celebratory sparkler and head home. It was a fun night. Thanks, KRG.
Someday, we’ll be walking to the track together and I’ll ask “Ever been to a track in a banana costume before?” and she’ll say “Of course.” That’s what friends are for.
Happy Halloween. Keep your butt down.