The Human Race

No, not the real human race.... but a running race (on Summit Ave) called the Human Race. It took place last Sunday (03.28.2010), and since I haven't taken many pictures lately, I decided I would hit it up. Here are some of my favorite photos from the event.

I would like to note, that I am really lucky to have some FAST friends. I went mostly to take pictures of them, and it was a bit chilly (as a spectator), so as soon as I got the photos I needed, I headed home.

Ariella, my scrabble buddy. 3rd woman finisher!

Erin, my high school XC coach. 5th place woman.


jamie, who is gonna get me a job at run n fun. 8th place woman.

bekah, one of the infamous yetzer runners! 24th woman.

angie. doctor/runner. 25th woman.


ed rousseau. not my friend, yet. will be soon, i hope. 70 years old. 8K time: 39:54. Pace: 8:01 per mile.


more photos will be posted on photography by asha later today.

missing (him)

I went to the NCAA (women's) frozen four championship last weekend. Duluth was playing Cornell. At first, I decided to cheer for Duluth, because I'd like to see a Minnesota team win. Not long after this decision was made, I changed my mind, because Cornell was undoubtedly outplaying the Bulldogs.

There was a man, an old man, cheering for the Big Red (Cornell). He reminded me a lot of my grampa, in that he was just this cute old man, with a sign (that read "Go Big Red"), and he'd stand up and cheer and sit down and cheer. He was so sweet, and it reminded me of when my gramma and grampa used to come to my hockey games, and cheer me on.

I've been missing my grampa like mad the last few days, and last night, when I was in bed, I realized that seeing this old dude at the hockey game is what brought back all these (positive) memories of my grampa.

I'm close to tears as I write this, and have been close to tears several times the last few days. I don't know if what I'm feeling is grief, or if it's just loneliness. I guess I don't care what it's called. I just miss my grampa. I miss him coming to my hockey games, and cheering me on, just like the old dude did this weekend. I miss watching football games with him. Fishing season is just around the corner, and I already miss fishing with him.

I'm wearing his old pajama shirt right now, I slept in it last night. It's striped, and made of worn out cotton. There is a blue pocket that was sewn on it (likely by my gramma). After my grampa died, I took a bunch of his clothes. I remember there were tissues and cough drops in all the pockets of his jammy shirts.


I know these feelings of sadness and loneliness will pass. They always do. And really, it's not so bad to miss him. I'm just reminded of all the fun we had, and all the love we had, and all the love I still do have for him. It's a pleasant reminder, even though it makes me cry sometimes.