Whenever I run, I like to be as incognito as possible. We’re talking border-line ninja. I think my goal is to blend in as much as possible so nobody will notice the super-slow girl bringing up the rear. So my running attire for races is pretty standard: black shirt, black pants, white socks. No crazy socks. No tutus. No funny hats. If nobody notices me, I’ve accomplished my mission.
So pulling on long, bright red socks Sunday morning felt pretty weird.
Granted, I wasn’t exactly running a marathon yesterday. I wasn’t even running the half or 5k. I was heading out with my husband and 3-year-old daughter for the Oklahoma City Memorial Kids Marathon. I did my last half – my fourth one – back in March so I would be able to participate with my little girl in her big race. For the Kids Marathon, runners put in 25 miles on their own and then finish the last 1.2 miles at the race. (If you don’t think that sounds far, try putting in that kind of distance when you’re legs are, like, 12 inches long.)
I read in the Landrunners Oklahoma City Running Club newsletter that people were encouraged to wear red socks in honor of those affected by the Boston Marathon bombing earlier this month. After some digging, we were able to rustle up some red socks for all of us. (That’s us in the photo above before the run.)
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