Dirty Hippies and Epic Spectating

This weekend, Rachel and I went down to Lake Geneva to cheer on my mom for the Zooma Great Lakes Half Marathon.

Side note - I swear someday soon you will actually get to read a race report of mine instead of all of these "spectator reports", so get it while the gettin' is good.  :)


Rachel and I have been emailing furiously all week... trying to hammer out the details of our one modest goal.

To launch our spectating to the next level.  To become legendary spectators.  Like this guy:

OK, not really.  What we wanted to do was change the lyrics to popular songs to make them all about running, and then serenade all of the runners with our mad skills.  I gotta be honest... they turned out pretty badass.  With lyrics like this, how can you fail?

To the tune of "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz (lyrics by Rachel):

Well open up your stride and run like me

Loosen up your belt and damn tech tee

Look into your pace and you'll find love love love

Listen to the music of the footfalls runners prance and sing

We're just one big family

And it's our GU-forsaken right to run, run, run, run run...

To the tune of "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley/Leonard Cohen (lyrics by yours truly):

I heard there was a special race

Just for girls

In a special place

They called The Zooma Great Lakes

Well the course is hard

the hills

the flats

the water stops

the timing mats

The awesome runners

racing thirteen miles.

It has been a long time since I have laughed so hard while emailing.  This crazy song writing is a super awesome hidden talent of Rachel's that I'm going to definitely exploit as my guitar playing improves. :)

Anyway, we set up shop at the three mile mark, cheered for all of the smoking hot lady runners, and then walked five or so miles down the course and started cheering again.  The houses (mansions) were set back 50 yards or so far from the road, but that didn't stop the guy who owned the house behind us from coming out to harass us a little.  He asked what we were doing (uhh... playing the guitar for pennies d-bag) and then satisfied that we weren't bringing down his property value sauntered back in to harass his maids or organize his collection of smoking jackets or whatever it is richie riches do these days.

Please harass me.

I figured there had to be a camera around somewhere because otherwise Mr. Money-wad-up-his-ass wouldn't have heard or seen us from his palace, so I spent the next two hours talking about exactly where on his lawn I wanted to take a dump.  Don't mess with me, pal.  

Luckily for him, my mom ran by just as I was seriously considering dropping trou, and I ran with her til just before the finish.

I am going to write a whole post on how awesome my mom did at this race, and on why I'd never recommend a Zooma race to anyone, but let me just give you a clue on how her race went - she finished her second half marathon on a ridiculously difficult course with a seven minute PR.  She's a rockstar.

Me, momma, Rachel after the race.

Momma and me.  :)

We came.  We sang. My mom conquered.

P.S.  If there is lots of awesome feedback about our epic songs... I *may* be able to be talked into posting a video of one of them.  Or maybe it'll just happen magically next time Rachel and I see each other and there's too much beer.  :)