Weeks ago, Billy and I joined some folks at chow, and a Master Sergeant that we work with asked us to take part in this 9/11 run- walk event, a 6- mile course. (9.11 kilometers, get it?) Yeah. And although it’s not the sort of thing we’d normally ever get involved in (I avoid 9/11 remembrance events, especially military ones; Billy avoids.. well, running, especially) somehow, we ended up saying yes.
I have zero recollection of how that happened. It was like magic. That MSgt should be a salesman.
So we did that on Thursday, Billy, Jason and I; we met up at o’dark thirty, ambled over to Four Corners to join up with the rest of the folks participating, and walked- no, it was more of a poky mosey, really- the course. Billy and I brought cameras.
It was a gorgeous morning, which helped a lot. The weather was perfect.
Poor Jason. I thought it would be funny to volunteer him before he got here, knowing his deep aversion to group activities and athletics and all that. And it was fun, to be honest. Loads of fun. But he was ornery and miserable about it and I still owe him rather majorly for going through with the thing.
He decided half- way through our walk that if he had to do this, he’d smoke while he was at it.
What could I say? It was all my fault, anyways.
A good way to start the day, though. For one lovely, sunrise- drunk moment I thought to myself, This is amazing. I should do this every day.
I came to my senses pretty quickly, though.
Incidentally, I finally had a camera on me when I passed this sign.
Be well, all.