I'm probably going to blow my attempt to write about this in NAP, but I just
can't keep this in. I'll give you the short version.
What happened was, I joined this Eating Club on Wednesday nights. We run for
7 miles, then go eat at a restaurant. Well, the first part you need to know
is that I am a terrible, terrible runner. Well, okay, I'm not a bad runner,
but it's just that I don't appear to display any sort of talent for it, and
the truth is, I don't go 7 miles because that's much too far for me. But I
don't care, that's not the point. The point is that I'm out on these
beautiful trails with a fun group of people trying something new. Well,
they're all much, much faster than I am. I can barely keep up, so someone,
usually out of pity, stays back with me. So, on one of these runs, I was the
only female there, which is only significant in that the other males there
just happened to be these ultra-distance fanatics. Turns out, when women
show up, it doesn't make a difference. They're ALL faster than I am, and
what kind of sexist idiot was I to think that just because they're women,
they'd be at my pace. Well, anyway, Dave stays back with me on this first
run. "I just got a flu shot, and my doctor advised me not to exercise
today," he says. The equivalent of running with me. That was his version of
encouragement. Somehow, it worked. I showed up for this last run Wednesday
(I'm leaving out the part of the infected zit turned cellulitis that put me
in the hospital that none of these people needed to know about, and come to
think of it, neither do you, but too late). Dave's there again. "Oh, you're
still at it! Great!" I'm not really sure what that meant. Well, after the
run (I did a truncated version with this fellow Mike who said he had just
done a double workout the day before, and needed a day of rest. I'm sure you
see the pattern here.), Dave tells me about this 5K race this Sunday. I say
I can't go this Sunday because I have an autocross. Saying these words make
me feel good about myself. I have an autocross, something I'm GOOD at. He
says, "Autocross? I used to do that back in the sixties." "Oh really?" "Yes,
I had an Elan, and my brother and I shared an Elise." A Lotus connection. I
ask him where. "Hayward, Pleasanton, Fremont..." "Whoa. Maybe you knew my
mom?" He says he doubts it, he can barely remember anyone, but asks her name
anyway.
I tell him. He thinks about this for a moment, and then his eyes turned
huge. "That was your mom?! Your mom was fast!" Neither of us could hardly
believe this.
He's got a back catalogue of super 8mm film which contains footage of nearly
every Lotus he saw in the sixties, and photos of nearly every Lotus he saw
in the sixties. He says he'll search his archives at once.
So, I knew there was a reason for this Eating Club thing.
Katie K.
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