Early Saturday morning, I was asleep in my bed and contently dreaming of slowly waking up, feasting on hot malasadas, watching some college football and happily getting chubby while doing each of these activities. To my great surprise, however, I was awakened by my son saying "Dad…dad, get up, I got to tell you something." (this was a great surprise, as I have never seen my son walk or make syllables yet, let alone speak in complete sentences!)
"What is it, son? Daddy was having a nice dream," I mumbled.
"Dad, just because you were too lazy to enter the Peacock 54 doesn't mean that I haven't been planning on how to tackle that race. Can you and mom take me up there right now to re-conn the course so I can take a crack at the record 30 years from now? Come on, dad, please!!!!"
"Allright son, pack up your bottle."
"One more thing, Dad: could you buy me some racing sunglasses too?"
"OK son," I agreed, "now grab your racing diapers and let's go!"
"GREAT! Last thing, dad: don't skimp on the quality of the glasses, either. There are no shortcuts to the podium. "
"Who told you that?!"
"This is really the last thing, dad, and then I won't ask any more questions. After the run, can we soak our legs in the ocean? And I was also thinking that it would be nice if you and mom could dress me in a fairly hot Halloween costume so I could practice some heat training just in case I want to do Badwater some day. Uncle Don Fallis said you can never start too early."
"Yeah, yeah, but I don't want you talking to Uncle Don Fallis anymore about Badwater, and don't even think about talking to your Uncle John Salmonson about Hardrock or HURT!"
(here's the pics to document the veracity of this account)