Team Camille in Kansas. Andre had a great time explaining my "quest" while I ran.Clearly this was a weekend more about spending time with my sister than running and my time proved that out, but who cares! It just goes to show that running inside on a flat track isn't the same as training in hills and heat. Oh well 31:44 and 6 of 16 in my division will just have to be good enough for me this week.
Andre picked me up in Omaha then we drove about an hour south to Nebraska City to spend the night at the Lied Lodge. The Lodge is on property originally owned by the Morton family, the salt folks. After our lunch at Johnnies, I wanted a little local color, we toured the Morton house and grounds. 52 rooms. Andre was all agog over the grounds and gardens while I was asking which rooms housed the hired help? To my shock, they only had one or two servants for all that house. Clearly I wasn't in residence!
Since so much of our conversations that day revolved around relationships, it seemed only fitting that as we were going to dinner that night we saw a wedding gearing up. We proceeded to rubberneck out the third floor window like two rednecks. Luckily they couldn't hear our cries of "don't dooooooooo it!"
As some of you know, I have said that if I ever date again I would give a postcard to the guy after the third or fourth date that he would send to me if he decided to break up. This way, I would know unequivocally that the relationship was over. Being a good lawyer, Andre helped me lawyer it up. How does this sound? "Dear Camille, Whereas I have decided to take my life if a new direction, I will heretofore no longer be contacting you. Please govern yourself accordingly. Signed, XX" Way too funny!
I insisted we have lunch in Omaha. About a year ago I was in Omaha (won't go into why!) and had eaten a carrot dog at a local restaurant. This was one of the most fabulous eating experiences I ever had and I went on to tell everyone about this sandwich that looked and had the texture of a hot dog, but was really just a carrot. The only problem was that I didn't remember the name or exact location of the restaurant. Since I did know it was in the Old Town section of downtown, we headed down there and gave ourselves 10 minutes to wander around and find the place. I quickly decided to "ask a local" so went into the Second Chance Used Good store and asked the guy behind the counter. I barely got "carrot dog" out of my mouth when he said "M's Pub - take a left at the corner and go north about a block and a half. Tell them we sent you." So off we went, I had my carrot dog and even got Andre, who does not eat real hot dogs, to try one. We had just finished our fabulous feast when a guy and two gals sat at the table next to us. Not that Andre's conversation wasn't interesting, but I couldn't help hearing the guy next to us say to the ladies: "If I EVER order a carrot dog, just shoot me! Put a gun to my head if I ever order a carrot dog." Needless to say I couldn't contain myself and leaned over to tell them, that yes, my sister and I had just finished our carrot dogs and they were fabulous! We all got a good laugh over it and come to find out one of the ladies was from Naples, Florida. Small world.
I'm back to running inside on the treadmill. Temperatures in the high nineties just aren't made for running. My next race isn't until the end of the month so maybe I can have a bit better of a showing. I'm expecting it to be quite hilly as it is in the mountains of West Virginia.
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