Okay, that's not exactly true; I don't hate children. It's just that I hate your children. My own children; they're exempted because of the direct blood line. I've also conditioned myself to somewhat tolerate the children who are the friends of my children, as long as I limit my exposure to them in intervals of ten minutes on followed by one hour off.
However, I can't stand snot-nosed, screaming, out of control children in general, especially when assembled in mass. And there's the crux of the problem. See, just about everyday of our annual three week trip follows this basic routine.
We load up the minivan with my two girls and then drive to one of my wife's cousins or friend's house. Then we squeeze their three or four children into the van. More often than not, one or two more children laden minivans have been prearranged to join us. From there, our little minvan convoy drives to the park, skating rink, beach, or any other place where children tend to congregate in the hundreds. And for the next four to six hours, all the mothers sit and talk about how wonderful their children are, the whole while completely ignoring the fact that their kids are whining, complaining, yelling, hitting, spilling, breaking, and snatching everything they come in contact with.
So when Jen said, "We're going to drive over to Jane's tomorrow and take all the kids to Balmoral Beach, where Michelle and her boys will also meet us," I replied, "Hey, the map says it's only 13 miles from here. How 'bout you take everyone in the van and I'll run down and meet you there?"
It wouldn't be a full pardon, but if I could get just two hours of solitude, I'd take it. After some resistance, Jen finally acquiesced on the condition that I get there by 10:00 a.m. sharp. So while everyone was still asleep in the predawn morning, I rolled out of bed and suited up.
By 6:45 I was on the road but the plan wasn't to run straight through as the course was less than a two hour jog. Instead, I hoped to spend about an hour ambulating through the inner city, a place I rarely get to see since its mostly children free.
I ran the first nine miles straight through and arrived at Saint Mary's Cathedral at 8:00. I took the opportunity to say a few prayers.
Exiting the east side of the church, I walked a hundred meters to the Sydney Botanical Gardens, 200 acres of paved walking / running paths surrounded by the most beautiful landscaped flora and fauna.
I could have spent the whole day there. But at 9:00, I knew that I better get running if I didn't want to be late to the beach and risk losing my running privileges altogether. As I exited the Gardens, I heard off to the west an irritating high pitch noise that wax and waned. As I ran down toward the wharf, I started to think the noise might be a massive flock of squawking seagulls.
Passing the wharf, I turned north and then saw what it was.
Yep, The Bieber is Down Under, and was performing live on the Sydney equivalent of
Good Morning America. Circular Quay was inundated with hundreds of snot-nosed, screaming, out of control kids! Crap!
—There's no escaping it.
I made a 180 and ran back to the Gardens. From there I followed the outer parameter of Circular Quay, and then finally made it to the Harbor Bridge.
I ran over and then jogged another 5k reaching the Beach at 10:06. However, when I looked around, Jen, Jane, Michelle, and all the kids weren't there. I took out my iPhone and saw an email from Jen, "We're running late, be there at 10:20."
I sat down on the beach and spent ten minutes listening to the soft, rhythmic, and tranquil waves brush up against the shore. It sure was nice while it lasted.
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