Saturday was my younger son's 5th birthday. My wife has a tremendous ability to turn even the most mundane of occasions into an event, and so when a birthday rolls around, it's Katie bar the door, we're going to have a party. In addition to the obligatory cake, streamers and invitations, there are elaborate crafts and themes and games that I'm sure both our children and their guests will remember forever. It takes a lot of planning and a lot of work to pull off, so we all woke up Saturday morning giddy with anticipation.
Giddiness quickly turned into concern when my wife informed me that our son didn't seem to be feeling well. I went to see him, and he was lying on the floor, lethargic and a little pale. He wasn't acting much like the birthday boy. Still, the invitations were out, guests were coming, and the birthday train was in motion so we kept trying to convince ourselves that he was okay. "He's probably just tired." "He was up late because he was excited about the party." We were doing a pretty good job of self-delusion until he walked into the kitchen, his eyes bugged out wide, and he emptied his stomach onto the floor. At least he hit the hardwood and not the carpet. My wife went immediately for the phone, and I went for the paper towels. There would be no party on Saturday.
There was a lot of crying, but once that ended we had a muted celebration near the couch that we've designated for sick children (we have far too much use for that couch). He unwrapped a couple of presents with a stainless steel bowl close by just in case. We set him up with a super-hero DVD and found ourselves with a suddenly free morning and afternoon, so I decided to go for a run.
I rarely have as much time as I want to run, so I decided to go further than usual. The longest race I've ever run is a 10K, so I haven't had much need to try longer distances. Back on my birthday in September, I decided to push it a little further just to prove to myself that I was in better shape at 38 than I was at 22 and I ran 7.2 miles. The unconventional distance is due to my most convenient training loop being 2.4 miles (for the math-impaired 2.4 x 3 = 7.2).
So, on Saturday, I decided to see if I could push it further. People who know what they're doing seem to suggest adding distance incrementally, but I decided to see if I could tack on another full loop and go 9.6 miles. I felt surprisingly strong, and even after the 9.6 miles I felt like I could go further. I have been planning to run the Atlanta ING half marathon in March, but during my last loop I started to wonder - can I do the full? Do I have the time? Am I too old to run my first marathon? I'm not yet decided, but I'm starting to lean toward it. A marathon has always seemed liked something that other people do. But I used to feel the same way about 10k's and sprint triathlons. Maybe it's the right time.
Our son got better. In fact, he seemed fine by the time the afternoon rolled around. We rescheduled for Sunday afternoon, and most folks were still able to show. The theme was a super hero training program, and all the kids wore their favorite super hero costume. I explained to the kids that not everyone was fortunate enough to be born with a beneficial genetic mutation, be bitten by a radioactive spider, or exposed to excessive gamma rays. Some of us have to train if we want to become super heroes. I explained that a super hero needs four primary attributes in order to succeed: (1) Speed, (2) Strength, (3) Agility, and (4) A genius-level aptitude in the natural sciences. Because we only had 90 minutes, we focused on the first three.
I set up a relay race, some mock heavy lifting and an obstacle course. The climax was my story about "Dr. Villain" who was denied a party on his 5th birthday long ago and has now devoted his life to stealing birthday cakes from little boys. There was some skepticism, and a few guests pointed out that they had been to several 5-year-old birthday parties without the appearance of Dr. Villain. I explained that Dr. Villain was no Santa Claus, so he couldn't be expected to appear at every 5-year-old's party. Then I excused myself to have a meeting with the commissioner.
Much to the delight, if not surprise, of my son and his guests, Dr. Villain did appear. He was dressed in black, complete with the bad guy mask. The newly trained super heroes pummeled Dr. Villain with plasma-powered pulsar bombs until he finally relented and fled the scene. He might have fled a little faster, except he was still a little sore from his 9.6 mile run.
Kids are funny. After I had changed back into my civilian apparel, several of them approached me and said, "That was you... I know that was you....That was you, wasn't it?"
The party was a day late, but a tremendous success, as measured by the smile on my son's face. And that's the measure that counts.
As for Dr. Villain, he wasn't born with any super powers, or even an above-average level of athleticism, so if he wants to pull off this marathon, he's got some training to do. I just hope that he uses his power for good.
