So, I didn't plan on doing this! Just so you know, my parents brought me up to Sugarloaf Mountain and I was content running around and getting in the way of 'Sugarloafers' wandering around the village and basically making a general CF of things as usual. It was my intent to throw rocks in innapropriate locations and make eyes at 5 yr old girls, but my parents had other ideas for me this weekend.
It wasn't enough that they took me away from my home, where I had been making progress playing with my new blocks and spelling ingenious new words with said blocks. My weekends' plans were to rip out the lower level of books on the bookshelf and dump over the dog's water bowl for the 15th time this week, but no...my hippie parents had another idea. These idiots thought it would be a good idea to drive up to the western mountains of Maine to hang out at a ski mountain.
We've already climbed this bastard of a mountain twice this year (Ok, I was in the pack on dad's back) but it was cold and windy both times, and I wasn't happy. Of course now, they decided to go for a race.
Obviously, Mom's OK, she's tall, blonde, beautiful and generally gets me what I want, but dad's a poser! He's a podiatrist (i.e. not a real doctor) and somehow thinks he's a good trail runner. I love him, but I'm tired of his nonsense already. I was thinking that, for the 4th or 5th time this year at his "races," that this jerk would head out on the trails and leave me and mom some quality time together running around the slopes of the mountain, which is like my favorite thing to do!
Anyway, an hour before pops heads to the start line, they put me down next to a bunch of well-rested under 6 year olds (hey, I didn't spend last night in a 400K slopeside condo, my parents, Joe Cocker and Janis Joplin, parked their camper on the side of the road at the Appalachian Trailhead, on a 10 degree right lean angle, where I constantly rolled into the side of the cold-ass upper windows all night!)
So the gun goes off, which scares the living shit out of me, and as these idiots run up the slope, I'm not too sure what to do! Do I follow these kids? Do I cry and head back to mom (which usually works), or do I just do my thang, which entails doing whatever I decide to do. There are arrows directing me along this course, but I'm not in the mood to listen to the man, like usual. The grass looks wicked high and I see a preferable course below me. Of course, mom and dad are nearby and help me through in the "right" direction. After a few short spurts of running, I come to the supposed turnaround. This is a race? This is only like 50 meters. At this point, all the other kids are across the finish line, but I refuse to believe a race is this short. Especially one called a "mountain race." This damn thing turns around instantaneously! Obviously, I decide to revolt and head up the mountain and ignore the societal constraint of the "race." But there's mom and dad, grabbing me and pulling me downhill. What "free" nature lovers they are, forcing me to follow the preset course. 1-2 minutes later there I was, at the finish line, nearly pushed down the slope by my dumb dad. As I cross the line, "Tammy tights," hands me a "finisher's ribbon," and I wanted to say, hey, chill out, I'm last, lady! By like 5 minutes! But her smile is intoxicating and i wave to her instead.
Mom and dad are way too overexcited and take a picture of me with my loser medal (but hey, I was the first kid under 3 years old!) and suddenly I'm hungry. I'm feeling like a lara bar. Time to go throw some damn rocks.