Barnebirkie
For the past seventeen years, on the fourth Thursday of February, I'd feed my kids spaghetti, bundle them up, strap on the racing bibs, and then take them to the Barneberkie starting line. At the kickoff festivities, a sea of eager little faces anticipate the daunting wilderness trek before them -- a whole kilometer or two -- all the way through the golf course, by the armory, past the school and down Main Street, amid a cheering throng of spectators ringing cowbells. Yep, I'm a Barnebirkie veteran -- 17 years worth! Most of those years, I've accompanied at least one of my children all the way down to the finish line -- shouting little encouragements all along the way. "Way to go! You're doing great!! Keep it up!! Don't quit!! Look! Look! All these people are cheering for you!" My fondest memories are when I've taken my pre-school aged children on this pilgrimage for the first time. (with five kids, that means multiple firsts!) For a three year old, th...