The child bride and I took part in our last -- for a while, at least -- Grand Old Day on Sunday.
Grand Old Day is a St. Paul tradition that goes back so far, no one can be arsed to tell you how far it goes back. About 2.5 miles of Grand Avenue is shut down for the event, and upward of 150,000 people flood the street for booze, music, fatty food and an all-around good time.
The day starts off with an 8K run for those people self-hating enough to get up and go running at 8 a.m. Count the child bride and me among them.
I finished the race with a time of 37:06, which is 9 seconds faster than I ran the race last year. My pace time this year was 7:28 a mile. I finished 21/54 in my division of 30- to 34-year-old males, and 106/406 amongst all males. Of course, there were 122 people between me and first place (I finished 123/763 overall), so I shouldn't sit here and cheer myself too much.
But the most important goal was achieved: I outran my wife.
The child bride is fighting illness and was so unhappy with her time that she refuses to let me blog it.
Afterward, we ate healthy meals of bratwurst, cheese curds and ice cream.