One of my daughters ran her thirteenth marathon yesterday on the thirteenth of April. That's pretty cosmic if you ask me, said Mrs. Linklater, reflecting on the theme of her blog, which is up there on the top left of this page, just under the name of this blog, a choice she regrets, but that's another entry.
Mrs. L, a devoted mother, was able to follow her offspring from thousands of miles away on the internet. in real time. This is also cosmic, since it wasn't too long ago that the closest thing to real time communication [like say a letter from Vietnam] usually took two weeks.
The weather was alternately rainy and sunny with a few miles of hail thrown in. The race might as well have been in Chicago, where the weather has been terrible and worse most of the time lately. The race officials also gave the split times in kilometers, not miles. So she had to do the conversion math in her head while she was running. When Mrs. L was running, a math problem would have been out of the question -- her brain always went into shut down. Possibly because she played music loud enough to drown out the utter boredom of pounding the pavement.
Wonder if you can guess where she ran the marathon? That's not a Red Army hat that she's wearing at the finish, so, no, it wasn't Moscow.