Adventures in Racing, Girl Scouts, Puppetry, and Bad Guys

After another rough night day week month, I was going to write about the insidious nature of depression. But that’s depressing. So I thought maybe I’d cheer myself up and get a laugh out of you by recapping my Saturday adventures.

It started with my first 5K. A "5K 2Care 4Kids," to be exact. My church was sponsoring the event to raise money for education for kids in Haiti and Liberia. I helped promote it from the pulpit, explaining that you didn’t have to run to participate because I, for one, only run when chased. So I showed up, dressed to run because the clothes are cute, but ready to walk. Rob was planning to run, and Abby was undecided until the last minute when she confidently announced that she was running with the intent to win. We got those cool little number bibs that make you feel like a real athlete, and off we went, Rob and Abby at the front of the pack, and me hanging back with the stroller brigade.

Those three miles were filled with lots of chatter, fellowship with friends, laughter, and tears. For a change the tears belonged to the little ones, not me. Abby finished with an impressive 10 minute mile (having never run a race in her life), and I finished. In less than an hour. Barely. But to be fair, I did double back a few times to catch up with friends and take my turn pushing little ones in strollers. I’m sure if it hadn’t been for those detours I’d have finished with a strong 17 minute mile. I should also note that yesterday my doctor told me that my iron levels are so low I’ll never run a marathon. So that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

With my runner’s “high” in full effect, I left the race and headed off to the day’s second activity: chaperoning Abby’s Girl Scout troop’s visit to the Children’s Festival in Philadelphia. I was in such a good mood I didn’t even mind being stuck with 19 eight-to-eleven year-old girls, usually my definition of hell on earth. We enjoyed an uneventful train ride into the city with a fresh but funny ticket guy, strolled through U Penn’s surprisingly gorgeous campus, made some arts and crafts, watched an interpretive hula hoop dance, listened to African drumming and then headed in to the theater for the performance of Basil Twist’s Petrushka, a Russian puppet show.

Floating Instruments

Now I like to consider myself a cultured person. I enjoy foreign films with subtitles, after all, but I have to admit I sat there thinking, “What the hell is this?” I shared baffled looks with my personal group of 4^th graders as we became hypnotized by floating instruments, airborne hens, balls of light and giant spinning wheels, until graced by the presence of a ballet dancer who flirted mercilessly with both a clown and a muscle-bound machete-carrying African dude. The whole thing was bizarre as hell incredibly abstract until the point where Mr. Muscles takes the ballerina lays her down and starts making out with her. I’m thinking “You go literal now?? With a bunch of kids at a children’s festival?” The show ends with Mr. Testosterone chasing Mr. Clown through a forest complete with an over-sized bear and killing him with a machete to the back. Children's entertainment at its finest.

The make-out puppets

The puppeteers came out after the show and conducted an illuminating Q&A with the audience. And thankfully one of the Girl Scouts asked what everyone else was thinking: “What was that about?” I later learned that one of the youngest girls with us took another leader aside and asked the really important question “Why was that dude on the ballerina? What was that all about?”

Having received our dose of artistry and culture for the day, and having earned our “freaky puppet show” Girl Scout badge, our gaggle of girls made its way back to the train station. And that’s when what little maternal instinct I possess was set to high alert by the presence of what I’m fairly sure was a predator with a shoe or foot fetish. An older gentleman, maybe in his 60s, nicely dressed in a Ralph Lauren sweater and khakis, was strolling about the platform with a slight grin on his face. He watched my girls with obvious pleasure, and repeatedly focused his beady little eyes on their shoes. Or perhaps he was trying to see through them to their little girl feet. But it wasn’t just the little girls he seemed enamored with. I also saw him checking out a couple of the other moms (and their feet). Let's just say I may not be able to run a 10-minute mile, but I was more than prepared to kick 100% of his creepy ass.

So that was my Saturday. An interesting day to say the least. And far more entertaining and blog-worthy than this pesky depression crap I'm dealing with. Writing is becoming more of a challenge these days, so bear with me till we get the meds straightened out :-).

Till next time...