I made pancakes for breakfast and learned that they don’t come out too well if made with almond milk.
I added songs from my LA-centric playlist to the iPod Shuffle and listened to news podcasts while avoiding the morning rain.
I ate some sopa de fideo with potatoes and chicken (#carboloading like a Mexican).
I drove out to my mom’s house with Sean to attend the annual fundraiser to benefit a Tijuana orphanage. I put up the signs with the menu I made before. It included carne asada tacos, enchiladas (chicken or cheese), pozole (chicken or pork), pupusas (cheese or revueltas), tamales, rice and beans.
I found more marathon toilet paper.
I went to Mass at my home parish, St John Vianney. I got emotional and couldn’t suppress the tears when the assembly sang the refrain to an hymn called “We Will Rise Again:”
We will run and not grow weary
For our God will be our strength
And we will fly like the eagle
We will rise again
Yeah, that’s the kind of hymn I want to hear on the eve of a marathon. “We Will Rise Again” has become a theme of sorts for SJV as the community rebuilds from last year’s fire that destroyed the beautiful church.
I returned to the party, now packed with the band (dad on the bass) and lots of people eating, dancing and trying to keep warm. Papá Chepe and I danced to a cumbia — just one, gotta keep the legs fresh — and got the party started. Despite being the eldest person there at 91, he’s still one of the first people out on the dancefloor.
I ate tacos, enchiladas and rice and hung out with my cousins. My uncle asked me if the marathon would be canceled because of the rain. Nope. They all wished me luck before I left later.
I showed off the t-shirt Sean bought me at the expo. I think it’s my new favorite t-shirt.
I left the party and returned home. Got things ready for tomorrow, checked the weather for the 13th time and studied my strategy again.