(One runner asked me if we felt the need to live up to our Scottish heritage - all that knees bared in the snow stuff a la Braveheart. "Yep," I said. "They don't call us
Our assignment was the satellite parking and shuttle service at Dunwoody High School. T took one intersection; I fashioned a flag out of a race shirt so I could keep my heavy cold gear on and directed traffic into the parking lot. There was a steady stream of cars arriving right up until race time; then a few stragglers ran towards St. Luke's, hoping to catch the start.
The Tartan Trot is St. Luke's fundraiser for Youth mission trips. Early calculations indicate that we may do very well indeed for the three mission trips and two retreats planned this coming summer. (The tween and I will head to Mountain Top for the first time!)
After our shift was over, we headed to Olde Hickory House for a celebratory breakfast. I pretended I didn't have hat hair or looked like a doughboy with all the layers I was wearing. It was just good to sit down in the smoky warmth and enjoy eggs and sausage.
Now it's warm at home. It's mid-morning. And I feel even better.