There are ways to keep me from doing a Disney race, and I found a new one this weekend. My mother mentioned that I wanted to do the Disneyland 1/2 marathon to my dad, who responded that he wanted to do a road trip and drive up the California coast. “It’ll be great, we can end in Disneyland and you can go to the race!” Initially, it’s tempting because I could save a shitload of money this way if my parents agreed to pick up the tab on the hotel, so the cheapskate in me was pretty excited about this.
And then I went with my father to CVS and realized that if I couldn’t handle 20 minutes in the car with him and a drive thru, there was little hope that a drive along the California coast would be even remotely feasible. Then, later that afternoon, I heard my mother pull up in her car behind me while I was out for an 8 mile run and start yelling, “THAT’S ENOUGH! LET’S GO! STOP RUNNING!”
It was at that moment that the cheapskate in me reassessed my options and came to the resounding conclusion that although I wouldn’t pay as much financially if I went with them, I would most assuredly be paying in much more painful fashion and emotional capital is tough to come by these days.