Thankfully, it wasn’t me. And, it wasn’t the little men; it was hubby’s. However, he has jumped from working evening shifts at work (ending at 2:00 a.m.) to one that starts at 8:30 a.m. so it’s been a tough week for him.
As I had to pick up my race kit for Sunday’s race at The Running Room in Toronto, I decided to take my little men into the big city on the GO-train and leave a quiet house for Daddy. Now driving would have been easier and faster but parking in downtown Toronto would have been a nightmare. Besides, the boys needed an outing and what boy doesn’t not enjoy going for a ride on a train? So, we left Daddy in the suburban land of Nod and headed into town.
Halfway into the city, I realized that I left my entry confirmation next to the phone at home. I didn’t worry as I had my i.d. and I think I look like an honest runner, especially if I have my boys with me. But the registration guard was in her zone.
“Do you have any identification?” she asked.
“Yes, I have my driver’s license and other i.d.”
“Well, just give me something and we’ll look after you.” Suddenly, things weren’t looking too good.
A minute later, she showed me a bib number.
“Is this you?”
“Hang on,” I answered, “Let me put on my glasses.” That comment alone should have verified my age.
“Well, it says it’s you. Let me get you your shirt.” And, she walked away, bib in hand. I never did get a good look at it.
When she returned, she quickly showed me the timing chip that is on the back of the bib and I struggled to see the name, gender and age again. “Make sure you don’t put this near any metal or else it won’t work. And, don’t wave your arms in front of it when you cross the finish line.”
I was a bit baffled but I was also afraid to question her. “Well,” I thought, “I’ll put it in Skipper’s backpack so that it is away from the Sigg bottles.” Then, I looked at the safety pins on the table and felt a sense of panic. I thought about the trip home on the train and driving to the race in the car. “There’s metal everywhere! Just what kind of metal do I need to protect my timing chip from. Didn’t you study science? Don’t you know that there are many, many kinds of metal?” My mind raced, but I bit my tongue and watched her carefully wrap my bib and chip inside my race shirt, thanked her and left. As soon as we left the store and were out of her sight, I double-checked that I did indeed have the correct bib.
My little men and I headed back to the GO-train, giggling about the Iron Bib-Keeper. Skipper laughed after he had time to think about the “keep this away from metal” warning; when I looked at my superhero-loving dude, I thought how even Superman can succumb to Kryptonite and wondered what hope there is for my little timing chip.
Once home, we delicately unpackaged my bib, wrapped presents, baked cupcakes and told Daddy about our visit with the Iron Bib-Keeper. Oh, I hope she won’t be next to me in the start line with those intimidation tactics. Maybe I better coordinate my outfit with my Wonder Woman bracelets.