Super Bowl, Schmoooper Bowl: That’s not the super event that has me jazzed. It’s Super Tuesday. I am so excited to see the results, I can barely sit still. Like a child awaiting Christmas, I’ve been counting down the days until this important political temperature-taking. And oh-how-I-wish I lived in one of the 20+ states that gets to have a voice tomorrow (Oregon’s contest isn’t until May 20—give me a break!). I won’t get on a soapbox to convince you to vote for my candidate, other than to say if that person ran 26.2 miles, she too could be a Marathon Mom….
This is not newfound political fervor: I was political before I was athletic. Before I became hooked on exercising, before I ran my first marathon, or before I won my first rowing medal, I co-managed Gary Hart’s campaign headquarters in my Connecticut hometown and shook Senator Hart’s hand. The Bush dynasty queered me on politics, but now I am amped up once again. (It’s almost too perfect that it’s also a Summer Olympics year!) And I am delighted that my zeal is rubbing off on Phoebe, my older daughter who just turned 6 last month.
An intuitive, observant child, Phoebe quickly realized I wasn’t idly watching CNN on primary or caucus nights. (Gee, ya think maybe it was my hoots, hollers, and shouts of “right on!” that gave her a clue?!?) She asked if she could watch return coverage and debates with me, and now we are both glued to the TV on important nights. It’s like how she’s already talking about the runs we’ll do together once the weather turns warmer. I’m not sure which I’m more pleased about—that I’m raising a potential athlete or a political animal. For now, you know where we'll be tomorrow night.