Iron Pol

You can call me the Iron Courier.  Delivery under three (hours) or it's free.  Some background and details, perhaps?

Much like other days of the week, Sundays at our house have a bit of a routine.  One key part of that routine involves my kids asking to go to their grandpa's house after church.  I typically tell them to ask their grandfather.  He typically tells them to check with their dad.  Yes, it's a vicious circle.  It makes them laugh.

Yesterday was all boys.  My daughter went to church with my wife, leaving three generations of males from the Pol family to fend for themselves.  Of course, my son wanted to go for lunch at grandpa's.

It worked out well as it gave him the opportunity to read a story to grandpa as part of homework.  We ate lunch, watched the first half of the Packer game, and, according to my dad, did all the other things men can't do in mixed company (mostly associated with bodily functions, you know how guys can be).

At half-time, we hurried out the door so we could get home before the second half started.  And, of course, left my son's homework packet sitting on my dad's table.  He noticed it and called, just as I was pulling into the driveway at my house.

And, also of course, it needed to be turned in, today.  That left me with the challenge of juggling the rest of the Packer game, a 12-mile training run, dinner, and returning to my dad's house to get the folder.

Enter MapMyRun.  While watching the second half of the game, I mapped out the route I would take to my dad's house, if I were running.  Nine miles, one way.  A bit much when the plan called for a 12-miler.

Of course, that doesn't consider either the Ironman or the insanity factor.  As the Packer game wound down, I changed into my running gear and headed out the door.  I told my wife I'd be back in three hours, or the delivery would be free.

Eighteen miles (about four of which were not much fun) and 2:50 later, I walked back in the door, a sweaty pack on my back.  Thank goodness for the plastic sleeves they use to send the books/signature sheets home.

Iron Courier Service.  You call, we deliver.  And who needs the bike?