Day 231
To say it’s not like anything
else states the obvious. When
you’re asked to sit on a toilet, wear a plunger as a hat and cheer on your
teammate who’s tossing rings at you in a twisted carnival game, you know it
isn’t going to be an ordinary day.
Loveland’s Amazing Race is a
crazy, mixed-up, outrageous romp of a good time.
For the second consecutive year,
my husband and I partner up as one of only 500 teams to compete in the annual
event. Started by a local family
who competed in the television version The Amazing Race, participants try their wits and skills in twenty
different obstacles. It helps to
have a good sense of humor.
We run, walk and bike between
each station. The event lasts
upwards of three hours and all profits go towards helping local charities.
This year, we invite Chaz’ two
aunts to join us.
You can’t ask just anyone to
help chase down escaped convicts in the woods or use an industrial strength
blower to navigate a basketball through a maze. Halfway through the race (and about the time they each got a
pie in the face after losing a challenge involving a fire hose and a clown), I
have to wonder if they question the invitation. Prize or punishment?
The race gives one a unique perspective into your partner’s personality. It's telling to see how someone reacts when they're shooting Angry Birds into a canoe or searching for a stuffed animal in a field while blindfolded.
At The Dating Game, I answer questions
and Chaz guesses my answers. To
the question “What cartoon character would your partner be?” I scribble down
Roadrunner. (He recently completed
a 5K training program at a local running shop.)
“What do you think?” the
challenge judge asks turning to my husband.
“Jughead!” Chaz shouts and the judge barks out a laugh.
After a float down the Miami
River in an inner tube where people in camo shoot at us with super soaker water
guns, we run up the hill, discard our floats and hand-in-hand cross the finish
line in Nisbett Park.
The party’s in full swing by the
time we arrive. Friends and family
laugh as racers relive the morning’s funnier moments. “Did you drag her or did
she drag you?” “And what is the capital of South Dakota?” “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy…”
We rip off of our racing bib
tickets for food and drinks and join the crowds. We lift our beers and clink them together in
celebration. We did it.
“Next year?”
“Absolutely!”
We finish our pizza and check
our watch. We don’t want to leave
but we have a sitter waiting at home.
Maybe next year with the boys a year older, someone can bring them here
to meet us after the race and we can all celebrate together. But now, we have to go.
I turn to the racers next to us
and hand them our two remaining free beer tickets. “Good race,” I say and they laugh.
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