The Run for SIDS. Thanksgiving, 2007.

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At our Tuesday night run during Thanksgiving week, Monica had encouraged us to attend the yearly "SIDS run" that would take place at 8 am Thanksgiving morning. Having always been the charitable sort, I got up bright and early, put on my running clothes, and prepared to run for all the poor little babies who die unexpectedly.
I arrived at our meetup spot at the time I was supposed to: 8 am, but the only other people there were seven men, all of whom seemed to know each other. I wondered why more people weren't arriving; surely SIDS was a cause well worth running for, even on a national holiday.

Finally, Monica arrived and ushered me into the big, white Apexmobile.

"Sorry I'm late, Liz! I can't believe there aren't more people here," She said.

"Me too!" (My sense of moral indignation at being the only one charitable enough to come out and run for a cause on Thanksgiving growing with every word), "You would think more people would want to show up."

"I know. Well, anyway. I see there are a few people over there. C'mon, Liz, I'll introduce you to Sid."

It didn't take but two shakes of Sid's hand for me to discover that this was not an organized run for charity, but a yearly social event organized by a super-fast elite runner named Sid. And, of course, only his super-fast elite friends had bothered to show up and run with him.

Deciding I may as well give it a try, I set off with the group. Within a half-a-block, the whole group was three blocks ahead of me. I kept running anyway. Finally, when the whole group had ceased to be little, bouncing dots on the horizon, I turned away and jogged home.

I will undoubtedly attend the Sid's run again this year. But, this time, I won't be running for Sid. Even I know you can't die of SIDS at 45.