Team Bergeron

Another Classic Heather Story

posted by Heather April 16, 2019 0 comments
6AM Marathon Day Workout 🙂
Hb 🙂
Harley Love may just end up being the best athlete in our family. Just. Wait.
Lead men.
We never eat pizza. Nothing to see here.
TRYING to reorganize his room. I’m better with girl things, though.
Time to get rid of things over here.
Now that Bode can read…
My parent’s Christmas present from us is up 🙂 (address sign)
*tan line differentials
Cali girls are SO FUN 🙂

Oh my God, you guys. I don’t even understand why I don’t understand things at the same rate as other people.

Like, yesterday, we’re standing on the side lines at the Boston Marathon. It’s one of our favorite days of the year because we live right near the route. We also own a rental home right on the marathon course and every year we go there to cheer on the runners. 

Coming from a marathon/triathlon background, we know how much the athletes appreciate and use the energy from the people cheering them on from the sidelines. Knowing that, we’re pretty good at bringing some good energy.

From a spectator’s point of view, it’s way more fun when the athletes wear something on their shirt that let’s you know, in clear view, what their name is, where they’re from, or if they’re willing to wear some outrageous costume for the 26.2 mile run. Because those are the athletes you can have real fun with.

“Yeeeeeeah, Billy!”

“Here we go, Taiwan!”

“Nice job, grown man in a ballerina leotard!” Oh yeah, that was actually my friend, Conor Murphy.

Now, in my defense…because a classic clueless Heather story is coming…there comes a point after cheering for 50+ of these sorts of athletes when you’re just mindlessly reading words and yelling them out loud enough for them to feel obligated to at least turn their head enough to make eye contact and politely grin at you.

Which is, I would like to think, why at one point I’m wondering why everyone around me is suddenly frozen as I’m “raising the roof”…like it’s my job…yelling, “YOU’RE KILLING IT, NO MORE GUNS!!! WOOOT WOOOT!!!” I, simultaneously, was not being rewarded with a “polite grin” so much as a look from that particular runner like he, in fact, wouldn’t mind having a gun to point at me for that little episode.

In my head, I’m thinking I’m cheering for someone named “No More Guns”…like that’s their first, middle, and last name. Come to think of it, everyone around me is thinking that’s what I’m doing, too. Which is a worse scenario than if they just thought I was a supporter of ‘no more guns’. Do you see the difference there?

Well, I wish I had seen that difference.

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