Half Full or Half Empty?
100-mile race recaps are bit of both
We had just settled onto the couch. Sawyer nestled between the two of us and I hit play on the remote. Family Movie Night XXVII began, ...
Illustration by Kevin Howdeshell
We had just settled onto the couch. Sawyer nestled between the two of us and I hit play on the remote. Family Movie Night XXVII began, and I unwrapped the foil from around a chocolate bar.
That's when my wife Holly turned toward me. "I did something really crazy today," she said, staring at me with those shimmering brown eyes that make it easy to forgive anything. Dented car? Lost garage-door opener? Spilled paint on the carpet? Burned down the house? Released a plague upon humankind? No problem, honey.
"I registered for Wasatch," she confessed. Stunned silence was interrupted only by the voiceover of a Walt Disney rat explaining his love for exotic cheeses.
Whoa. For months, Holly had considered whether to take on a goal as audacious as the Wasatch Front 100. A few nights, perhaps after an extra glass of bordeaux, she even half-committed to it. This only supported my theory that enough liquid libation can convince anybody to register for any race.