We haven't run since.

With last week's computer meltdown excitement, crazy travel schedule, and short-lived RA reunion, I didn't get the chance to discuss my very first 5K race, the one I forced J to run with me, because, well, it was for a great cause! And it would get us up early and exercising! In gorgeous Central Park!

Of course, J was a wee bit apprehensive. His neck often hurts and bugs him when he runs a lot. Additionally, I often hurt and bug him when he tries to wake me up in the morning with a soothing, low-voiced: "Babe, time to get up..." In reply, I growl and snap, "No, J, maybe it's time for you to get up! And also hit the motherfucking snooze button damnit or I will murder you! Now leave ME ALONE! GOD."

Anyway.

The morning of the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure we are both surprisingly chipper. We wake at 7:30, throw on our running shoes, stretch a bit, and head to the N train.

We find the registration table to get our numbers (hee!) and our tee-shirts. As we near the booth in the center of the park, around 72nd Street, J becomes increasingly jittery.

"There better be some guys running this. If it's all women you might have to be on your own, and I'll just cheer for you from the sidelines," he says, as a psychotic child races to find tees in our sizes.

"There's plenty of guys running! Besides, it's for a great cause! Breast cancer! And you support women! And breasts!" I do a quick scan, silently willing there to be men running, because there does seem to be an overwhelming amount of ladies in the vicinity -

"Wow!" J says suddenly. "Look at all these women! I'm gonna have to tell [The real JC] about this race! This is a great place to meet girls! If I was single..."

Ah, J. Heart of gold, that one. Loves to help people.

In the end, of course, there are a ton of men and women runners and walkers. We begin on 77th and Central Park West, learning that 22,000 have come out in support of the cause: a cure for breast cancer. And it is powerful; I find myself choking up more than once reading the backs of the participants' shirts, which indicate: "I run in celebration of..." or, sadly, "I run in memory of..." We are both thankful to be a part of it, even if it is 9 AM on a Sunday morning. The weather is brilliant, and we finish the race in about 32 minutes.

On the way home, we meander down Madison, pleased that the street is relatively deserted.

"I kinda wish the tee-shirt colors weren't red and pink," J says.


* J in his sunglasses in the middle.
** Totally kidding.