No, not hunting for churches (I already have a great one), but rather, hunting for food during church.

I am rarely hungry following a long run. Well, I am hungry, but not ravished like you might expect someone to be after burning 1700 calories in just a few short hours. However, it is the day after a long run that the hunger monster hits. Since I tend to do my long runs on Saturday, it is Sunday that my stomach turns into a bottomless pit. This wouldn’t be a problem if I had constant access to a kitchen, but during church the hunger pains are intolerable.

This weekend was no different. I usually don’t have time for a large breakfast, because I’m just as tired as I am hungry so I sleep in as late as possible. Well, Dexter ended up getting really sick on Saturday and Sunday and he left proof of it in the bedroom—proof that I discovered at 2:30 am Sunday when I stepped in it. Dave and I were up for quite a bit cleaning all of his crap out of the carpet (literally).

So Sunday morning I had time for a protein bar before church and that was about it. Not that anything could really satisfy me.

Also, I need to add that when my mom and are at church together, sitting next to each other is generally frowned upon by family members and anyone in the congregation sitting behind us. Or in front of us. Or within earshot.

We talk. A lot.

And loudly.

And when my mom and I talk, we’re usually laughing. Bad mix for Sunday mornings.

Anyhow, right as church started, so did the growling of my stomach. I turned first to my mom who offered me some breath mints. I ate the entire roll in about 5 minutes. Didn’t help.

Pretty soon my mom and I start scavenging through our purses. She was looking for a protein bar (like she usually keeps in her purse), and I was looking for an energy gel (which I usually keep in my purse—don’t ask).

No such luck. (keep in mind that we’re communicating our food hunting discoveries this entire time while the service is in progress).

I was about to resign myself to the hunger, when my mom had an epiphany.

In her Sunday school classroom there was a box of unopened crackers and some juice boxes for the kids. Eureka!

One problem, with the setup of our church, the fastest way to get to her classroom would be to exit through the door at the front of the sanctuary and walk back the hallway. Unwilling to disturb more of the congregation than I already had, I decided to take the safer route and stretch my sore legs.

As soon as the offertory started, I quietly walked to the back of the sanctuary…and as soon as I was out of the sanctuary, I bolted down the stairs, through the basement, flew past some kid and his dad walking to the bathroom, up the other set of stairs, through the front foyer and finally down the hallway.

First I walked into the wrong classroom, go figure. But I found the right one, ripped open the box of crackers stuffed a handful into my pockets, struggled to close the box (of course), and darted back down the hallway. As I was passing through the foyer I heard the congregation start to sing the “Gloria Patri” which they sing at the end of the offertory. This meant that I had about one minute to get myself back to my seat before the sermon began.

I sprinted back down the steps, flew past the SAME father/son pair this time leaving the bathroom (I think I heard the kid mutter a “whoa!” as I flew by), up the stairs and regained my composure just in time to walk into the sanctuary.

I was thoroughly impressed with myself.

And then I behaved myself for the rest of the day.

Kidding. Dave and I battled over the crackers. He kept stealing them from my pocket!! Then he would tell me to be quiet whenever I protested.

I need to grow up. And start carrying more food in my purse.

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