In spite of my earlier blog, I really did have a great time in Anchorage, Alaska in June 2001 when my father and I traveled there with Team In Training to run a marathon. We had a couple of days to enjoy Alaska after the race so we tried to cram in as much as possible. The day of the race was just all about the race, so we drug ourselves 2 blocks over to the convention center for dinner with the rest of the runners. It was a buffet and so my dad decided to fix his salad plate and his main course all in one trip. But he dropped his salad plate and it landed perfectly upside down in between us. He looked at me and I looked at him--we both knew he might as well have dropped it in the Grand Canyon. There was absolutely no way either one of us could squat down and pick up that plate. So Dad decided to play it safe and tried to just kick the plate out of the way of the other people behind us. The plate went flying and the salad stayed in a perfect pile on the floor. Dad told the waitor cutting the meat at the end of the line that he had dropped his salad on the floor and could not pick it up and the guy looked at us like we were all alien beings he couldn't wait to get away from. We hobbled back to the table and laughed as hard as I have ever laughed.
We scheduled a sight seeing cruise in Seward, Alaska the day after the marathon. We asked the waitress at the hotel how long it would take us to get to Seward. She underestimated by about 30 minutes, but we didn't figure that out until we got on the highway and saw our first sign. My father then drove as fast as the 2 lane highway would allow through some of the prettiest country so we wouldn't miss the boat. We made it but they had to hold the boat for us. On the way back, we drove a little slower and stopped at some of the sight seeing spots. One of them had a sign about what to do when you see a bear. If the bear is black, fight back. If it is brown, lie down. The sign then went on to say that if the bear was brown and you were lying down playing dead and the bear started "feasting" on you, you need to change your strategy and fight back. Good to know.
We also visited a dog farm where they raise the Alaskan Huskies for the iditarod race. The sign said you could take a dog sled ride so I talked my dad into doing it. We paid $20 each, wondering how they were going to pull this off in the middle of June. We climbed on to a sled with wheels and the dogs took off down this gravel path that was a circle about 1/16 mile long. After the initial whiplash, we recovered, only to be pelted by rocks that flew up at us. We got back to the starting point and the guy goes, "No, no, they are the $20 people" and we were off again for round 2. That ride was over in about 2 minutes from start to finish, so I am pretty sure it was a complete rip off but we had to laugh as we picked the gravel out of our teeth.
On the last day, we arrived at the car rental return at the last minute. This was before 9/11, so we were really pushing our time to the max so as not to waste any time in the airport. Dad went to turn in the rental keys and he was just standing there so I coaxed him to hurry up. He looked at me and said, "My hand is stuck." Indeed, he had somehow managed to get his hand stuck in the car key return box. He told the girl working the counter and she stepped back, cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, "DOES ANYBODY HAVE LOTION OR A SCREWDRIVER?" A hush fell over the crowd but no one offered any help so the girl looked at Dad, shrugged and walked away. I began to laugh, wondered if I had time to get the video camera out of my suitcase, thinking how I could not wait to tell my sister about this one. Dad finally wrenched his hand out and we caught our flight on time but it left a pretty good cut on his ring finger.
Dad and I raised over $12,000 for the leukemia society through the generosity of our friends and family. In return, we got the trip of a lifetime and a marathon medal. It was a really good experience. Running afforded us opportunities and I am glad I got to experience that one with my father.
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