I´m in Bolivia!

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Yesterday, I ran the furthest I've ever run in my entire life...ever.  You see, my Dad ran the River Bank Run 10 years ago when he turned 40.  As he turned 50 this year, he decided he'd like to see if he still had it in him to run 25K (a little over 15.5 miles) and I, having recently turned 20, decided I would try to continue the decade challenge.  And so, since early December, my father and I have been running, nay waddling, which has developed quite nicely into jogging.  Granted, he was in Grand Rapids and I in Holland at the time, but we were together in spirit, which is far more important. 

The week preceeding a race should be filled with a healthy diet, plenty of sleep, and decent care for oneself should be taken.  I spent the preceeding week working at Tulip Time; eating fudge, elephant ears, and over a gallon on hot chocolate most likely.  Race day started wondrously at a little before 6am in which I showered and prepared for the run.  Little did I realize that a shower would be provided for free throughout the duration of the race.  We headed off, and stood in the pouring rain waiting for the race to begin.  Have I mentioned I love my Dad?  The four of us (myself, my Dad, and his two running buddies Scott and Dave) took off (aka we walked to the starting line which took us over three minutes) and began our 15.5 mile treck.  Around mile two I stretched out a little more and left the men behind, while still pacing myself as my good Dad taught me.  Mind you, it's still pouring at this point.  After passing a crowd of Katerbergs cheering me on after mile 9, my Dad (I love my Dad) and his friends caught up to me during the hill section around mile 10 and I realized I had slowed slightly.  I had a hard time keeping up with them due to my knee hurting (I should have stopped at one of the aid stations to stretch it for a second) and their brisk pace.  Like a wounded soldier, I told my Dad to go on without me, because I would make it and I didn't want to hurt his time on accounts of me.  I did that to my Aunt Jane during a 5K once, and I still feel bad.  At any rate, two hours, 43 minutes, and 58 seconds after I had crossed the starting line, I completed my first 25K race.  (My first race longer than 5K actually.)  This was nearly one minute after my Dad (I love my Dad, did you know?) finished with his friends, which made the ending all the sweeter to have him there to greet me.  I'm so glad that we got to race together (even if the time we ran side by side wasn't the majority), and I'm honored to call myself the daughter of "Old Ken."  (He taped over the "T" on his "Old Kent" running shirt for the occasion because his name is, yup, Ken.  Anyone understand where I get my coolness from now? Hehehehe.)  Regardless of the pouring rain, rash on my stomach from a cotton shirt rubbing for hours, arthritis-feeling joints, and funny walking for the next few days and my muscles stop being so sore, I'm glad I did it and I'm so proud of my Dad.  Oh yeah.  I challenged him to a dual for ten years from now... 

Hey!

My poems are printing for the anthology I have due this afternoon, so I'm using this time to write a quick xanga entry.  Sometimes I like to state the obvious, like the fact that I'm writing this entry... and that I'm stating the obvious.  I like ice cream.  And bananas sometimes too.

At any rate, this week is rather odd because everyone is leaving for their respective homes, and because I'm staying at Hope for May, I don't realize that.  Also, because I'm studying abroad in Bolivia next fall, I won't see a lot of them for a LONG time.  I'm being an AD for orientation though, so I'll get to see most everyone before I leave. However, I just realized that a few of my friends are also studying abroad fall semester, and Laura Stark (possibly others as well) are studying abroad in the spring as well.  It just hit me that I won't see her for over a year!  Because I'm leaving, I forget that other people are leaving at separate semesters.  Eeps!  Even this week with exams, I'm working on the things that I need to do, but I haven't been making a huge effort to figure out when people are going... what if they leave and I didn't say goodbye, and then it's months and months, and they'll forget about me, and I'll come back all bedraggled and blabbering confused Spanish, and I don't get to have a dog that likes me, only one that cowers and snaps when I try to pet him, and what if I never get to ride in a hot air balloon or make balloon animals again, or fall in love, and what if I forget how to smile?

I'm good. The printer is done for the moment. I miss you.  (see, stating the obvious again.)