The funniest, coolest part of my conversation with Dad yesterday was when he was sympathizing with me, and he said, “…and maybe next year you can do the JFK 50, and we can just put you up at the house. We can just drive over to the start for that.” You know, because the most complicated part of a fifty-mile running race – along the Appalachian trail, to boot – is getting to the starting line. 
It reminded me of when I was telling Mom that we were planning a homebirth for Sam, and her only question was whether we’d be getting a birth pool. Comes a time when you realize just how well your parents know you and accept you in all your craziness, and there’s no moment like it. 
EDIT: I just realized that the JFK 50 ends at my middle school! I found out yesterday that it starts by the high school that the guy I dated back then attended, and that boggled my mind, too. How did I not realize this epic thing was happening right in my back yard, all those years ago?
I’m doing this race as my first 50K/ultra in July 2012. I’m so tardy to the party but...
How wonderful! My parents don’t get me AT ALL, and I often wish they’d try. I hope I’m like your folks when my kids are grown