The week of Thanksgiving was wild. An opportunity to move into a bigger apartment in our building came up out of the blue – Frans and I sorted out the paperwork, got the keys, and realized we had the week of Thanksgiving (which, thank goodness, included a four-day weekend) to complete the move. We’d signed up not just for the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving morning – which would be Frans’s first time participating in what is my FAVORITE local race – but also for the Pelham Half Marathon, a tiny race just north of the Bronx that would be homeboy’s first half marathon, on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. After a short discussion we decided to go through with both races despite the move.
And you know what? It all worked out. Both races were awesome. I PR’d at the Turkey Trot (5 miles in 43:59), then waited a few minutes and cheered Frans across the finish line. Two days later we ran the half together and he held a steady pace, like a champ, through the whole fricking thing. We crossed the line holding hands like a couple of cheeseballs. We got everything moved and by the end of the weekend I was unbelievably exhausted but it was done.