Before I do anything else, I would like to point out that I did a bunch of walking around on Wednesday night accompanying Madison around on her Halloween trick-or-treating. This morning, we participated in the Color Run, a 3-mile “race” cleverly named because they blast you with colored powder at various points on the trail. Anyway, the greater point is that I have already filled my exercise responsibilities for the month of November. I feel pretty good about this. And there’s still the two-person party which is Lynnette’s 33-year send off coming later tonight. This is me patting myself on the back. Holla.
We parked the car in the first place we came across which featured other people doing the same thing. Fortunately, this parking area was only a short distance from the starting area. The surrounding roads were teeming with people walking from the Costco/McDonald’s lots. No way we were doing that. I wasn’t about to walk a single step farther than I signed up and paid for. If you’re wondering why Madison’s face is all jacked up in this picture, we were curious, too. “It’s the sun!” she said. “It’s in my eyes!” She does have a flair for the dramatic that is certainly a product of Pascua blood. Lynie and Lynnette are nodding their heads right now.
I like to consider myself a thinking man, and one of the things I thought of prior to actually going out on the Color Run was what would happen if Madison decided she didn’t want to walk at some point during the proceedings. It would have meant that Lynnette or I would have had to carry her. Not acceptable. The solution was to bring the red stroller out of retirement. Lynnette and I agreed that this would likely be the stroller’s last act of service for our family. As I type this, the red stroller is resting comfortably in the trash bin outside our home. Madison actually sat in the stroller for most of the race except for the color stations and whenever she felt like getting up to strut or something. By the end of our adventure, the stroller was covered in a mixture of colored cornstarch that blended into a kind of grayish color most similar to the bottom of a plastic container that’s been housing sidewalk chalk for a while.
Just one of the reasons I love this woman.
Not pictured: my gat.
Orange was the first color station. Lynnette went through with Madison. I had photo/stroller duty. We would alternate as the race went on. Madison went into the first color station a little apprehensive. I was curious as to how she would deal with the whole thing because 1) she hates getting dirty, 2) she always makes such a big deal about getting shampoo and other stuff in her eyes, 3) she sometimes tries to avoid things she hasn’t dealt with before, and 4) the idea was kind of preposterous. When she asked us earlier in the week why people would throw color on us, neither Lynnette nor I could come up with anything remotely logical. I think Lynnette said “Because that’s what it is and that’s what they do.” Madison didn’t reply. I hope this period of taking our word for it lasts as long as it possibly can. Anyway, my fears were unfounded: Madison LOVED the Color Run.
Obviously, the Goob’s favorite color station of the day was the pink one. She and Lynnette strutted through the color bomb like music was blaring in the background. I got out in front of them this time, because as much as I love taking pictures of Lynnette’s backside, I figured 17 pictures of it probably amounted to some overkill. Lynnette, though, did not feel the same way so there are only pictures of my back and Goobi’s back when she and I went through the stations. It’s okay. Lynnette will make it up to me tonight by singing a sensual rendition of “One More Try” while massaging my feet. That more than compensates for having to filter through a string of pictures in which my fat ass is prominently featured.
The half-way point. I didn’t really need the water, but it was there and it was cold. The three of us had a cup each and I went for seconds. I wanted to dump half a cup of water on my head, but was hesitant for two reasons. First, I had put a smattering of product in my hair that morning. Essential. Well, I didn’t want the water to mix with my sweat and the product and the color and coalesce into some kind of blinding liquid which would inevitably find its way into my eyes and make me want to rip them out Oedipus-style. Second, I wasn’t entirely sure how the water would react with the color. The last thing I wanted was to have a gooey paste caked on to me for the rest of the day. I can still see it: I looked deep into that shallow cup, through the transparent water to the white bottom. I thought about how delightful it would feel to have the cool water rain down own me. I thought of the histrionic head shaking I might do as if a model in a shampoo commercial. I put the cup to my lips and consumed the last of it. I tossed the cup in the bottom of the stroller. I stand by my decision.
Like I said, the only opportunities we had for frontal pictures was after the color stations. We’d pull off to the side after each one and take a picture which was supposed to capture what we’d just been through. Madison and I went through the yellow together. One of the things I respected the volunteers for was their focus on the kids. Every time I went through with Madison, they made sure to color her before they got me. I would literally watch their eyes as we passed them by. They’d look at us, then lower their hands/bottles to make sure they bombed Madison. I was really happy about that. As I walked Mad through the yellow, one of the guys shot a stream of the powder at my chest. For some reason this caught me off-guard and I tried to block it with my hand. I missed and it hit me in the chest. I barely felt it, but I guess I reacted on pure instinct because I let out this extremely non-masculine groan which ultimately resulted in getting that stuff on my tongue. Not a very flattering series of events.
After we completed the “race,” we headed over to an open space where those who had finished participated in a group throwing-of-color. The emcee led the crowd in a rousing rendition of “Gangnam Style” before counting down the second before those in the area would release their color powder. It was difficult to breathe once all that stuff got let out. I would later spend five minutes in my garage after we got home picking multi-colored boogers out of my nose. The color got everywhere. A couple of guys were on lifts throwing packs of color out to the crowd. I caught an orange one for Mad. Lynnette and I used the green ones that came with our race packets. Eventually, Madison would throw out the rest of mine as well. I love this photo. She’s got the Hulk Hands thing going on. And then she’s got the face that looks like the Rock’s right after he says “…the millions” and the crowd follows with “and millions!” She had a great time, and really, that’s all I ever hope for when I participate in something that’s obviously outside of my comfort zone.
I won’t be surprised if I’m still discovering nooks and crannies harboring color for the next few days. There’s a pile of powdered clothing sitting in our garage. I’ve taken two showers since the run and I’ve scrubbed myself in a meticulous and intense manner worthy of comparison to Ethan Hawke in Gattaca. The inside of Lynnette’s car bears markings of color. Someone used their finger to write “Color Run Hawaii 2012 :)” on her back window. Who would do that? Aside: There were several people in “teams,” participating in the Run. Some of them dressed similarly, others simply had their team name scrawled on their shirts. The best of these was the team known as “Fifty Shades of Cray.” It worked on so many levels. Anyway, it was a great time and I hope that the Color Run returns next year. Team Running Mens, anyone?