CUCIL Run-Springville 2007

"K, Kris, well you have to decide before we go to bed so we know what the plan is for the morning." My mom was folding the last of the little girls' laundry and she was talking to me in her we're-tired-so-hurry-up-and-decide voice.

I spun around in the computer desk chair, looking at her in despair. "I don't know, Mom. Will someone go with me? Is it going to be making us late for the airport if I run it?"

"Kris, I'll go with you." Dad had his eyes closed and his arms behind his head, reclining in the couch as Brooke and Viana crawled all over him. He was the epitome of a grandpa in that moment, but I knew he was serious about coming with me.

"Well..." I paused and looked from Mom to Dad then back at the computer screen where the race information was pulled up on CJ's old computer, "what about the registration fee? Is the $15 worth it? I want to get a race in Utah, but I don't want to be a burden."

CJ walked in from the back hall then, picking up a stuffed animal as she came. "Just run it, Kris! You can do it! Dad will go with you. It will be fun!"

"Yeah, Kris, I'll go with you." Dad's eyes were still closed and I chuckled at his consistent noncholance before turning back to the desk.

Mom squished down the huge pile of folded shorts and tossed the last rolled-up pair of socks in a mountain of them to her right. "K, well hurry up and decide. We've got to get these girls to bed." She stood up and grabbed Brooke from off Dad, then stood looking at me, waiting.

For all the things I do fast, I go slow in decision making. But I finally looked back at my peaceful Dad and nodded. "Ok. I want to do it. If we leave here at 7 we can be there in time for the race, and it won't take us too long so we can come back and shower before going to the airport. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you, Kris." Dad's eyes finally opened and he sat up, nodding his head, his boyish grin encouraging me. "Let's go!"

It was only a small 5k in Springville, something for the handicap people in Utah or something, but I wanted a race in Utah and I saw this as the perfect opportunity. We went to bed (finally) and in the morning I woke up on the floor of the small Wyview apartment where my oldest sister lived. I tiptoed to the back room where my parents were sleeping on an air mattress and my dad was already up and putting on his tattered shoes.

"Ready, Kris?"

"I'm ready! Let's go!"

Springville was much closer than I thought, and we pulled into the parking lot of the community center at 7:45. A line of old people sat cluttered behind a small fold-out table like a bunch of withered buzzards, and they handed my dad and I registration forms and our t-shirts.

"Is this a pretty good race?" My dad scribbled his information in the form then pulled $30 out of his wallet. An ancient race director looked up at him, bushy eyebrows spilling over his squinted eyes.

"It's a good race!" He muttered the words, a little dribble spilling out of the corner of his wrinkled mouth. "Be sure to put your raffle ticket in the bucket. Everyone wins a prize at the end!"

My dad laughed as he dropped the red stub into a hole cut in the top of the ice cream bucket. "Everyone!? Ok, well, we're ready to go!"

The start line had been constructed out of two posts hammered into the ground on either side of a cracked asphalt road. Our small group squeezed themselves onto the path, and I scooted ahead of my dad in the group.

"Kris, you can win it!" My dad flashed a huge smile at me as he pumped his fist in the air and I laughed before checking that my watch was clear. This was a small field. He might be right.