Dad-xaggeration strikes again

This past weekend my dad went to his college fraternity reunion. Putting aside for a moment the fact that the Greek system is ridiculous (making the sorority sticker from my (real) sister's sorority that's stuck on my car an ongoing fiasco), it sounds like he had a really good time.

One of his old friends is a serious runner. Not just serious in a Dad-xaggerated kind of way, it turns out: the guy is nationally competitive in his age class, and he's hooked into a training community of elite runners, including Deena Kastor, a personal favorite of mine and the recent bronze medalist in the women's marathon (on whom see previous blog entry: http://slowertwitch.blogspot.com/2004/08/womens-marathon.html).

So my dad calls me up and asks if I want Deena's autographed picture. Now I don't care so much about stuff like that as a rule, but my dad is all excited about it and I do like Deena Kastor, so I figure what the hell. Next thing I know Dad's friend is asking if I want to train in Monmouth with him and Deena and some other elites; at this point I'm wondering what Dad-xaggerated running prowess this guy thinks I have. The one race my dad has ever seen me run (a 5K) I had the completely atypical experience of finishing as the fastest women in the 20-29 age bracket; I don't know how many of us there were in that bracket, but it was a small race in the middle of north Jersey winter and there couldn't have been more than 15 or 20. So now Dad thinks I'm just a heartbeat away from Deena Kastor, about to win the Olympic marathon any day now with my four-hour time.

At the end of everything I'm still getting the autographed picture, though.