Now, I'm not so old that I get upset at the occasional late night from my neighbors. I've come home a little stumbly at 2am more than once.
But. 4:30 on a Sunday morning is a little much. Especially when it's the 3rd or 4th time in the past month that they've woken me up between 2 and 5 in the morning.
Normally I'd get a little pissed and then go back to sleep. Not yesterday.
My alarm was already set for 5, as the start of the Cleveland Marathon was at 7, and I had plans to be in my car on my way up to Cleveland by 5:30.
Not that I'm dumb enough to want to run 26.2 miles that early in the morning. Or ever.
My husband Matt, and his friend Matt, who was in town this weekend for this express purpose, ran the half marathon together.
I sat inside and read (it was cold) and made it outside in time to snap a picture of them crossing the finish line together:
Matt and Matt are the two in blue, and my Matt is the one on the left, with the hat on. They were probably making the last fart joke of the race just then. But certainly not the last fart joke of the day. There were a lot of fart jokes.
They finished at 1:52 (and, when I think of how long it would take ME to run 13.1 miles, which would be.... a hell of a lot longer than that, I'm seriously impressed). By 10:30 we were back in Akron, and by 12:30 we were back up in Cleveland, thankfully showered, at the Indians game. I thought it was pretty impressive that the Matts weren't dead, and were able to enjoy themselves for the rest of the day. If I ran a half marathon, I think I'd sleep for a week. (I promise to stop going on about how much I suck at running. Seriously.)
They were lucky that they were doing the half, though. Nothing went wrong there. In the 10k? The course got messed up and instead of running 6 miles, a lot of people ran 9.