We didn't survive (well, technically we survived because we're still alive but metaphorically we didn't make it)

On Saturday night we participated in the largest game of tag I've ever seen (reference SurviveDC.com). Beginning at Dupont Circle, 1,000 runners used whatever route they chose through the city to reach six checkpoints in order, trying not to get caught. The games began with just fifteen chasers, but their numbers swelled as runners got tagged and became chasers.

I haven't run so hard since perhaps elementary school! And my body didn't like it. There's this muscle on the top of my shins that kept me limping for three days afterward. It was very fun, nonetheless. I think my favorite part was sprinting down the sidewalk on 18th Street by all the fancy outdoor restaurants, with bewildered diners gaping at us. I felt so conspicuously out-of-place, yet much too scared of getting tagged to really care. Strangers kept stopping me and asking, "What is going on?"

Our entire gang was tagged out just three blocks from the second check point. We didn't stand a chance. There was a chaser in every direction we turned, and soon we were all split up, and finally when Matt and I didn't realize that the entire mob of people at the other side of the intersection happened to be chasers until they all broke into a stampede in our direction, I knew we were goners. I was finally run down on a bridge over I-395 by a tall red-haired man.

We knew by the twitter feeds that most people had been tagged out by about 10:30 pm, at which point we forsook the whole thing and went out for dinner. The next day we learned that out of the 1,000 runners who began the race, only 79 actually 'survived D.C.' Next year they should re-name it the D.C. massacre.



Upon getting tagged, I had to exchange my blue runner arm band for an orange chaser arm band. (I also had to call everyone else so that we could re-group, since we had been scattered in every which way.)



Here we are with our chaser arm bands on. Every last one of us got tagged out.

Unlucky, and really unobservant

I am resolved to post more than once a quarter on this thing. By posting today, after posting so recently, I am exceeding even my own high blogging aspirations.

Today, my thoughts are with the poor UPS driver who fell down an elevator shaft this week. When this happened to a character in Kate and Leopold it was a little comical. The occurrence in real life is very unfortunate- it seems doubly so because it has been portrayed in a humorous light.

The man was on the third floor of a large office building off of Monument Drive in Fairfax, VA. For some reason, the elevator doors opened even though the elevator was not there. The man failed to notice this as he proceeded to back his large cart of packages into the empty space through the doors.

He fell three flights, shattering the bones in both his arms, breaking his pelvis, and cracking his skull.

I learned of the poor man's mishap through his colleague, our office's UPS driver. When David collected our packages yesterday afternoon, he said that the man is not doing well. I am anxious for today's update. I pray that he is able to recover!

the cop used sirens and flashing lights to pull me over (i was on my bicycle)

Last night I decided to ride my bike to the tennis court to hit on the backboard. As I turned right at the top of a large hill, I noticed a police car turn onto the street behind me. As I coasted down the hill, I waited for the car to pass me by, but it never did. It stayed behind me the whole way down. At the bottom of the hill, I suddenly hear the cop's siren and see its lights flash. As I was the only "vehicle" around, I supposed I must be the culprit. Bewildered, I pulled over my bicycle.

My surprise was compounded when I saw the face of my tormentor. The officer was an elderly woman, and she was driving a minivan. Not your typical law-enforcement image.

"Your bike lights aren't bright enough!" she told me. "Oh." I wasn't sure what to say. Did that really merit a siren? I considered telling her that I didn't have any bike lights, but thought better of it. There must be some ordinance in Arlington that requires cyclists to have bike lights. She went on for a bit, and then concluded, "Other than that, you're doing everything right. Thanks for wearing a helmet!" With that, she smiled and drove away.

And that, folks, is my first experience getting pulled over on my bike, and my first experience with a police grandma driving a cop minivan. Of all the police, the police grandmas must be my favorites.