It's gotten all the way up to 30°, after an overnight low in the mid-teens. My fingers are freezing as I type.
I finally got an e-mail back from the CMM people; their fees are non-refundable and non-transferable. I thought that meant I couldn't transfer my registration to another person, which it does, but it also means I can't transfer it to another Elite racing event. I don't think I have anything going on in early September, but heck, it's only February. I guess I'll wait a little while before I plunk down the cashmoneybucks for the Philadelphia race. I intend to go, but I want to be a little closer to the magic day before I commit.
The trouble with a fall race is that training in the summer is brutal. Or at least it was last year. But since I'm going to be much thinner and fitter when I train for Philly, I'm sure it'll be a piece o' cake. Heh. Cake. Yummm.
Mr. Shrinking Knitter's mother has been in the hospital since Sunday night and she seems to be getting worse instead of better. I'm kind of afraid to go visit. I've managed to not be sick at all this winter [can you hear me knocking on wood?]. As soon as you get off the hospital elevator all you hear is people hacking and coughing all up and down the hallway.
She has bronchitis, which isn't supposed to be contagious. Even so I stand as far away from her as I can when I'm in her room. I'm sure she thinks I'm being rude. I'd rather be rude than sick.
Thanks for all your feedback about switching races. It really does make the most sense at this time. Since the triplets' dad is a runner [he's the one who inspired me to get back into it], I'm sure there will be lots of races for all of us in the coming years.
Well, if my knees hold out, that is.