Last Saturday Monkey and I participated in the nOg Run Club’s World’s Largest Flip Flop Run at Bond Brothers’ Beer Company in downtown Cary. This is the second such event put on by the club and has the goal of setting the world record for the most people to run in a 1k thong sandal race. I thought it might be fun, and my son agreed to go along.

Just the Two of Us

As soon as I mentioned the idea to Monkey he was in. When I asked my wife and daughter if they wanted to participate, both declined. Cottontail said it sounded like a good way to get hurt. My wife agreed. She also seems to have a general rule about world record attempts based on her experience in icebreaker games:

“Now you can say you’re a world record holder in ‘Two Truths and a Lie.’ Whenever someone says they are a world record holder, you can be sure it’s a ‘truth’ and that usually the world record is in something silly.”

The Safety Orange 50

According to the people at Guinness, we had to wear sandals with no strap at the back (i.e., a true flip flop) and complete a 1k course for a legitimate record.  Monkey has a lot more experience running in flip flops than I do. He thinks nothing of it, while I worried that I would blow out my Achilles’ tendons and hoped Monkey would be fine walking.

When registering for the event, I chose a shirt color associated with a group of 50. This was to help the Guinness people count the crowd. We ended up with a choice between “Tennessee” and “Safety” Orange; I went with the latter, figuring that would be Monkey’s choice.

On the day of the run we checked in with our group leader and line up with the others in your pack of 50. Organizers then slid us west down Cedar Street and started checking groups in by color. We had to hand in pieces of paper with our signatures and stand for a group photo. It tested the patience of my seven year old, but he hung in there until we were ready to go.

 

It’s Not that Bad…

The airhorn sounded and the line of participants started moving through the start. Most people walked, creating a bottleneck. Monkey didn’t get why everyone was walking. In his mind, this was a race. He pulled me to the side of the road and then in between people until he found a clear patch where we could start to run.

By the time we turned at the end of Cedar St. and crossed over the train tracks the pack thinned out as the runners separated from the walkers. We left behind laughter for the panting of runners on a hot day along with the clacking of a few hundred pairs of flip flops echoing against the Town Hall parking garage. That is a memory I will carry to my grave.

The running itself wasn’t as bad as I thought. I chose to use a pair of Oofos, which are normally for recovery after hard runs. They have a little extra support and a lot of cushion and made the run manageable.

(Video from the News and Observer. We make an appearance at the 17 second mark)

He Blew Out His Flip Flop

We flopped happily along with our pack, until a few hundred feet down the road we heard cries of “Wrong way!” ahead and “Huh?” from those around us. Ahead the line had turned back and was coming our way; we had missed the turn at the corner of Town Hall. We stopped and turned back, merging with the line of floppers behind into a chaotic rainbow of confusion.

Amidst all this, Monkey and I ended up in the group that made the correct turn first. For a stretch along town hall and back to the train tracks, Monkey took off and was ahead of everyone else. Then he lost a flip flop going back over the train tracks and started losing steam. But he kept going and was (I think) the second kid and one of the first fifteen or so people across the finish.

Kids are Always Listening

Afterwards we grabbed a Sprite (him) and a Cary Gold (me) and grabbed a table on the patio to rest. Monkey got a big, inexplicable grin on his face. Then he looked over at me and said:

“Your hypothesis was wrong, Daddy.”

I had no clue what he meant.

“You said I would never lead a race when I was seven.”

I guess on one of our runs he asked what would  happen if he was in the lead for a race. In fairness, I think I said he would “probably” not lead a race with adults when he was seven, but that I would be very proud of him if that happened. When we first discussed it, I didn’t want to discourage him but I also wanted him to focus on enjoying running and realizing there were more goals than just getting first place.

When I looked over at his toothless little smile, though, it didn’t seem like the time for a discussion of the nuance of my comments. I told him that he was right, and that I was proud of him. I repeated the same thing the six or seven other times we had the same conversation during the weekend.

He really didn’t seem to care about being a part of a world record or a silly event with his dad. He cared that he had led a race as a seven year old, and it seemed fitting that it should happen in an event where he probably was the technical expert. I took away memories of a good time, while he gained confidence in his running that he can transfer into other endeavors.

More Fun than I Thought

This was a lot of fun. More than I thought. In the end, 805 people finished the race which was good for the record.  I can cross that off my bucket list (and file it away for an icebreaker game), though I don’t think that was the big takeaway. I will remember the clacking of flip flops, the joy on Monkey’s face, and the pride he had in his performance.  I didn’t know a silly run in flip flops could give me so much.