Boston Marathon

Today was the Boston Marathon. I have very strong feelings about the Boston Marathon for the following reason--it schooled me. I had little knowledge of what exactly could happen to a person who ran for 26.2 miles...namely, if you're a dude, your nipples can bleed from the chafing.

So, when my dad ran his first marathon (at age 54--he rules), I kept teasing him to be careful about chafing. I told him I couldn't bear the sight of him with bleeding nipples. He seemed a little skeptical, but said he'd look into it.

The day of the Pittsburgh Marathon, Jess and I were down there watching for my dad (and I'll say this, if you haven't ever watched a marathon, you should--it's an amazing example of the good left in mankind) and some dude (who was not my d-pops) runs by with a white, sweaty, t-shirt that had two bright red streaks down the front. Gah. Really, I'm not sure there's much else that can top that on my list of "Things I'd Rather Not Experience...Ever."

Anyway. We spotted my dad right before he crossed the finish line and I went over, told him I was so proud of him and (with the vivid image of the guy in the bloody t-shirt in my head) asked him how his nipples were...he smiled and lifted his shirt to reveal two, round band-aids, strategically placed.

I'm the best daughter ever.