Call me Crazy

OKay - so everyone who knows me know that Im NOT a runner in any shape, form or size. Im just married to one. However, for some obscure and strange reason, I have just entered myself and FIVE fabulous friends in a 64 mile Samoa Perimeter Relay which will take place on the 29th of August. The Relay begins before the crack of dawn out at Sinalei Resort on the other side of the island, loops around Lalomanu, following the coast until it ends up back in Apia for a grand finale finish in front of the Govt building in the dead of night. For those who are elite athletes...they will prob get back into town in plenty of time to enjoy the welcome crowds, the festivities, the banquets, the Prime Ministers speech and peak Teuila Festival atmosphere.

For the rest of us wackos who are doing the relay because we're just crazy/dumb/suckers for punishment - we'll probably stagger into town either at midnight and be lucky if a nightclub is still open to give us a celebratory drink...or (heaven forbid) crawl into town in the wee hours of Sunday morning, just in time to make it to church at 7:30am. We have yet to decide on a name for ourselves - Dream Team does come to mind...as in we are dreaming desperately that we will be able to do this without ripping ourselves to shreds. And yet, in the midst of existentially examining our sanity for doing this, i find myself vaguely excited. Thrilled. I mean - how many of us can say that we have done (or will do...or have tried to do) a 64 mile race? I have a husband with a company offering to sponsor our team. Im 36 years old. The mother of five super children. Im healthy. I run five days a week. Very slowly to be sure. I have five awesome friends all willing to sign up for the adventure of a lifetime...so why shouldnt i dream!?

We will have a van stocked to bursting with appropriate snacks and drinks ( brownies, pizza and ice cream comes to mind...but then so does throwing it all up on the road somewhere between here and Aleipata). We will have a rockin sound system blasting each runners personal sound track as she runs along. A sexy - I mean sensible running team uniform. Several changes of it for when we are soaking wet with sweat...blood...tears. We will have an able driver and co-driver to navigate the roads for us...hopefully scaring away the village dogs and pigs and avoiding the curious children who will come out to throw rocks at us - I mean come out to cheer for us. We will each run four legs of the course and rest in between with ice and diet coke - make that ice and powerade.

We will do lots of laughing. And talking. And cheering. And commiserating. And maybe a little crying. (whats a chick fest without some tears) And all in all - we will have a great time, and be raging road warriors who can take on anything else life has to throw at us. (just let us rest and recover for a few weeks afterwards.)But i must halt here. And get my big butt out there for a run. Because its 3 months and 6 days away...