Even a bear says, "Screw It" at mile 13.

You'd think I would learn that a 'vacation' with my husband so he can run more than any living thing should run unless being chased by a bear, is not so much a vacation as it is a huge waste of time and money.

I should have realized this after the last trip we took to Chicago so Logan could run that marathon. You see, we rarely go away alone together, one of the unfortunate results of cutting ties with my in laws, who, to their credit, loved having our kids for overnight visits. It's very difficult to organize babysitting and rides to and from school and all the other stuff which needs arranging. Also, travel costs money and it's often easier to spend that money elsewhere on things which may seem or may actually be more important.

It seems the only way I can get Logan on board for a weekend away, to a fun destination, is to tell him a bear is going to chase him for 26.2 miles through the 5 boroughs of New York City.

I made some crucial mistakes in agreeing to this trip. I forgot how much I hate dumping over $1000 into something which isn't exactly fun for me, I mean sure, trying to navigate New York's subway system, walking 83.2 miles is fun sometimes. I guess this weekend, being in New York City, away, with my husband for the first time since the last marathon, the whole run around like a chicken with its head cut off, just wasn't doing it for me.

But you know, Saturday night when we went to bed at 8pm I told myself, "Tomorrow night will be fun."

And Sunday while I walked 428 miles and got on and off subway lines while sweating profusely and trying not to cry in frustration just trying to see my husband run in this race, this very exciting race. Even for just 30 seconds. I consoled myself with the 'Good Time' I was promised. How we were going to have fun! And the guys were going to eat! And drink! And it would be so worth it. Worth the thousand dollars we spent. Worth the night before going to bed in The Meadowlands at 8pm. Worth the day of trying to follow an unfollowable marathon in a city I can't seem to understand.

We agreed on a meet up place, chosen because a team was meeting up there for a celebration. We'd read it would be next to impossible to find each other at the finish line area.

Logan left in the morning to shuttle their way to Staten Island without a map, money or a cellphone. I didn't really think about it because I sort of thought they were grown ups and would think of these things themselves. The thing is I'm the person who thinks of these things because along the way I've become that person. The person who figures out the map and makes sure we have our boarding passes and writes the notes and makes the schedules and figures out things.

By the end of the day Sunday after doing all that, I wanted to have some fucking fun in the city with my husband and friends.

But I didn't do enough planning and coordinating and making sure everything was set.

After the marathon Logan asked a race official which way to Second Avenue. This race official has never lived in the city, has a cruel sense of humor or was smoking crack cocaine because she sent them off, in 50 degree weather after running a grueling 26.2 miles wearing shorts, no coats with no money, no map and no cellphone toward Amsterdam, the exact opposite direction they needed to go. Where Meg and I waited for them and I fretted for two hours, thinking of my husband lost in the city with no phone, no money and no pants.

The anxiety and fear I felt for that last hour was tinged with the worst kind of aggravation. I resented him for not thinking through the event. For not thinking to put a map in their bag, for not putting a couple dollars on them, for not doing what I would have done had I known they would be so unprepared.

I felt angry that I take ribbing for being 'anally retentive' and a 'worrier', when my worrying is what keeps my husband from spending an hour in hell roaming New York City alone after surviving 26.2 miles.

Finally a kindly New Yorker told Logan that Amsterdam and 82nd was not the fastest way to get to 78th and Second. In fact it was no way to get to 78th and Second, especially not after you've run 26.2 miles. He asked if they had a map....or a phone....or maybe money. But they had none and so he gave them $5 to get a bus to where they needed to be.

By the time they arrived at our meet up spot I was incredibly relieved my husband was safe and not freezing walking around New York anymore. But I also had a sinking feeling that this would be yet another night sacrificed to The Marathon. Like the night we didn't go to that party because Logan had a long run. The kids and I waiting to do something on Saturday because Logan has a run. The family dinners we skip each week because Logan needed to get a 2 or 3 hour run in. For the last 4 months, our lives have revolved around this event, even though no one wanted it to, except Logan.

We spent a large portion of our expendable income on this trip so Logan could run this race and I sort of just wanted to have one night of celebrating and fun. I wanted to see friends and make it worth all this money and all this time my family has invested in this stupid marathon. Sure, it's nice to see Logan run. It's nice that he's got the determination to push himself so far. But you know, he's done it 4 times now, it's wearing thin. I'm starting to think a different hobby might be better, like cross stitch.

When Logan arrived, having endured such a ridiculous ordeal, I knew our night would be over before it started and we'd be back at The Stupid Meadowlands watching a stupid pay per view movie and asleep by 10.

And it did.

If this had happened 15 years ago when we were dating I'd have stood on the sidelines just happy for whatever I could do to support my boyfriend. I'd probably have gone to sleep in the Meadowlands, just happy to be with my boyfriend. If this trip didn't go the way we wanted, we'd take another in a few months. When you're dating without kids, time is your friend.

15 years later, this is it. There's just one trip. We dumped all our cash into this trip.

And it sucked.

And I'm pretty mad about it quite honestly. 

On the bright side, today was beautiful. We spent the day walking through Central Park, ate with Isabel and finished up our afternoon with a couple drinks by a lake at the park.

The trains came the way I thought they were supposed to.

The Natural History Museum held our bags for us.

Our cab driver made me want to visit Jordan, but not for a marathon.

During the race Logan was beyond thrilled when people yelled, "Logan! Suburban Bliss!" Thank you so much for cheering him on while I sweat my ass off and fought the subway.

We got to stay with Alice and Logan got to meet one of the women I hold close to my heart for the very first time.

While at the Finslippy home, I learned more than I ever wanted to know about Simon and Simon, specifically the theme song.

On the bright side, today New York wanted to be gentle with me and I appreciated it. Because last night as I laid in bed crying myself to sleep with the frustration of the day, I thought New York wouldn't be happy until I was dead.

On the very brightest side, driving home tonight I realized how good it would feel to be back in our family room. How good it would feel to turn down our street and head to our home.

Max hugged me for 3 minutes straight when we got here. The best part of getting away from the kids is coming back. Even when the trip is a huge disappointment.