Saturday-a-thon

After a week of doing nothing, my normal Saturday plans of sleeping in and surfing the Internet lacked their usual flair. Luckily, this Saturday was full of activity that would have stood out even in the schedule of one of those Type A peple you sometimes hear about.

First up was a March of Dimes Walkathon. It was to fund research designed to stop premature babies. Well, to stop babies being born prematurely; I believe the actual premature babies are safe from the might of the March of Dimes people. I got to Seahawks Stadium at 8:00 in the morning, which resulated in a certain bleariness of the eyes. I'm pretty sure I saw someone picketing, though. I was under the impression that normally charities are exempt from that sort of thing. It turns out that March of Dimes tests animals or something. I dunno.

The Walkathon was 10K, or about 6.2 miles. I'm not normally one for physical exertion. I'm capable of it, but I don't ordinarily engage in it. It's like a Chef's Special: it's not printed on the menu, but if you make a request, it might be available. How's that for a metaphor?

Okay, hang on while I dial back the figurative language. My point is that while I occasionally go on a walk of about two or four miles, it's not very common. Not as common as it ought to be, anyway. And while I sometimes go as far as six miles, I'm not really used to it. So I was a little worried about the distance. On the other hand, I'm a very fast walker. I normally pound along in a big striding fashion, although I'm also able to do that powerwalking thing you might remember from the opening credits of Doctor Detroit.

After a long opening ceremony during which we heard from representatives of the March of Dimes and various corporate sponsors, I and the people I was sitting with (people from work, of course) got a little tired of sitting in the rain listening to speeches. And it turned out that the walk had technically already started; the people who were clever enough to not sit in the stands were already out walking. So we got started.

My normal walking speed is about four miles per hour. Maybe four and a half. But I walk harder when there are people to pass, and there were many people in front of me. So I walked extremely fast. I finished in one hour and five minutes, which is a pace of over six mph. That's a lot faster than I thought I'd manage. My legs started to hurt a couple miles in (especially my calves, which were tightening up something fierce), but I worked through it and by the end of the walk, I was tired but not in pain. Weirdly, when I woke up the next day, I wasn't in pain. I'd been pretty sure I'd be unable to walk. I considered leaving food near my bed in case I was immobilized.

But while the Walkathon would normally constitute a very, very busy day, I was home by 11:30. And I still had stuff to do: a friend was having a barbecue. And since I'm a big fan of charred meat, I was there!

Most of the barbecue happened along predictable lines. I'd been worried that it would be a big crowd of people I didn't know, but it was actually pretty much all friends of mine, although I hadn't seen some of them in years. The meat was well-charred, particularly this one crazy steak. They used a recipe from, I think, The Big Damn Book of Sheer Manliness. It involved putting some weird substance (possibly mustard-based) all over a huge hunk of meat, wrapping it in newspaper, soaking it in water for a long time, and then burying it in hot coals. It was a lot of effort, but it came out really tasty. There were also hot dogs, hamburgers, and some snacks made out of meat. Look, we like meat, okay?

There was also some fooling around on the XBox, but it doesn't anecdotify very well.

Anyway, I eventually came home. Then, on Sunday, I did very, very little. The end!