Running . . .
. . . for Fun and Office
Regardless of your political affilitation, please enjoy the humor in this guest blog by Mary Flowers Brannon. Also, as always, please feel free to comment.
Running
By Mary Flowers Brannon
If you think you want to run for an elected office, take a cold shower and call a friend to talk you out of it.
Most people think you just need more votes than other candidates to win. However, to get those important votes, nobody tells you how much work, time, lack of sleep, miles on your car, fast food, getting lost because your GPS will not react to detours, stops in scary towns for directions, expensive tanks of gas, tolls, and massive amounts of Vodka to keep your head out of the oven.
Daily, you must look in the mirror, put that smile on your face, and recite your internal mantra, “Washington Needs Me.” You have to do this even after reading newspaper polls, which give you less than a 2% chance of winning. People do not understand why you are happy at 2% because the previous week it was less than 1%. You must count your small successes to keep going.
I realize I need campaign shirts, but T-shirts are expensive. So, I go to “Dollar Tree,” where everything is a dollar (or was at one time). For printing, I get the name of a local college student who will give me a deal if I pay cash.
“How much to print my information and say something about the Blue Wave. I got these shirts cheap at Dollar Tree because of minor imperfections. Can you cover them up with ink?” I ask.
"How many colors do you want? More colors, higher price.”
"What would you suggest?” I ask.
“On candidate shirts, one color seems to work best. Unlike a fraternity or sorority that wants them to be colorful. A political shirt wants you to remember 2 items—the name of the candidate and the office being sought.” He says.
I purchased all blue shirts, and we agreed on white lettering.
“Do you want a design?” He asks.
“How much more will that be?”
“No charge for a fellow Democrat."
"Maybe a wave, like the Blue Wave is coming.”
He nods. “Do you want to come in and look at the proof before I print them?”
"Nope, you are the professional, plus I am under a time constraint. I am doing a big race this weekend, and some of my supporters are running with me.”
“Got it. They will be ready by Friday afternoon.”
I am glad he will print my T-shirts and will not require me to buy them from him. When I come back, they seem perfect. I pay him the agreed pittance, take them home, and prepare for the race the next day.
My supporters search the box and pick out the size that fits. A married couple who come to all my events ask me to take a picture of them wearing the Brannon4Congress shirts. I take several pictures and realize something about the shirt design. The circles with the “waves” give a buxom woman a somewhat vulgar dimension.
Truthfully, my big concern is they will not remember my information, just her big “waves.” I snap out of it and think this lady and her husband paid thirty-five dollars each to run in this event, and they are wearing shirts that cost a dollar, with printing adding another two dollars. Maybe I am just a little envious that the woman’s three-dollar shirt looks so much better on her than me.
When registering, you get a chip to tie to your shoelace so you know your time. Data is important to serious runners as they are always trying to improve. This event has lots of entries.
The people running a longer race start first, so the order is Marathon, half Marathon, 10K, then 5K. My team is doing the 5K (3.2 miles) and having a great time. We all pretty much stay together, talking and laughing.
If you have never done an event like this, you should. Citizens line the streets and cheer you on. Signs say how far you have come, and volunteers give you water along the way. When you cross the finish line, you hear cheers and whistles and “WOOHOO’S!”
On the route, I see a handsome man with two children, about 6 and 8 years old, holding up a sign saying, “My mom is number 116, and this is her 9th Marathon in 3 years.”
At the finish line, I am impressed to see two very muscular Marines in camouflage, wearing full gear, running for a fellow Marine who had lost his life in Afghanistan. The finish line is very festive, and sponsors provide bottled water, a banana, a bagel, and a free 5-minute massage performed by students trying to get certified.
My buxom friend and her husband, after decades of marriage, obviously love and respect each other. This is evidenced by the way they tease each other. He is a reformed smoker, but his lungs still suffer from years of abuse.
The husband, red-faced, trying to catch his breath yet attempting to appear cool, says, “I wasn’t in last place this time. I saw two people behind me.”
His wife says, “Yes, you are not last, but of the two behind you, one is hooked up to an oxygen container, and the other is eight and a half months pregnant.”
Starting to breath more easily, he says, “I don’t care, I was not last, and you are not going to take this victory from me. Now, move to the side so I don’t throw up on your new 200-dollar Nikes.”
We laugh and get in line for a massage. All my supporters have my campaign material, and they hand it out if asked. Some just take pictures of the flyers or the back of our shirts, knowing it will save me money in printing.
It is so humbling to hear people sing your praises knowing it is from the heart. One of runners is a pretty senior in college, doing the race to be with her parents before heading back to school.
I see one of the Marines that ran in full gear get out of a shorter massage line to come over to ask the college girl for a flyer. I am not sure if he was interested in voting for me or just wanted to talk to the pretty girl.
My masseuse in training calls my name. This was a great race on a beautiful day, and my heart is full of love from my ”BRANNON BELIEVERS.”
The End
This was a good one!
Mary always has a good sense of humor