Where On the Road To Boston Is He?

Yeah, I’ve been asking myself that very question.  I can’t seem to make a firm decision on my next race.  I just keep slogging along, haphazardly training and playing the chicken and the egg game on picking a marathon – I feel like I can’t sign up for a marathon until I think I’m fit enough to have a realistic shot at re-qualifying for Boston.  But I won’t get fit enough for a realistic shot until I sign up for a marathon and train for that specific race.

In the meantime, some decisions are being made for me.  I’ve run out of time to renew my passport in time for Edmonton, so that one’s a no go.  Some of my friends in the know, friends who are keeping a close watch on Boston qualifying folks, are convinced, and have convinced me, that we’ll have more time to sign up this year, what with the tougher qualifying times and the hot temperatures (see Boston) preventing more folks from qualifying.  So now I think I have a little more time to get in shape.

Decisions.  Decisions.

I snapped this picture at the pool with the intention of coming up with some pithy caption, but I’ve got nothing. Enjoy it purely as art.

While you ponder that, I’ll throw out some interesting little tidbits from the running world:

  • This guy says he can break a 2-hour marathon, if only someone will sponsor him full-time.  Call us when you break 2:10 and we’ll see if we can’t hook you up.
  • This guy claims God is his coach.  When Ryan Hall recently entered ‘God’ as his coach on a form, an Olympic official said, “You have to list a real person” to which Hall said “God is a real person!”  If I was the official, I think I would have said something facetious like, “Okay smart ass, what size team jacket will God be wearing?”    I hope God’s training plan is less confusing than the Bible.  Geez, can we eat pork or not?

Yes, feel free to insert your “either of those guys beats you by an hour and a half” comments here – it’s a free country.  But I’m thinking somebody should come up with a “Hall versus Call” ad campaign, ala the old Dave versus Dan ads.

  • Donning no shirt, only a heart rate monitor and shorts, I jogged across the bridge at McAlpine the other day when a guy pointed  at the heart strap and asked, “Is that thing to hold up your kidneys?”  He was either some kind of freaky genius/medical savant, a nut job, or a complete moron.  I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing he’s one, or both, of the latter.
  • Had a Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom kinda day on the University trails the other day – saw a hawk dive bomb some poor rodent, saw a box turtle moseying across the path, and apparently scared the living #$%! out of a herd of deer (come on guys, seeing some runner on the running trail really shouldn’t be that shocking at this point.)
  • Accompanied Laura (Gray, lest there is any confusion) to the Charlotte Running Company.  In the minute it took for Hammer to pick up shoes from the back, a monsoon hit.  That’s at least the fourth time in less than 2 weeks that I’ve been caught in the pouring rain.  I’m going to punch the next person that says we’re in drought conditions.  As Laura pointed out, maybe it’s time somebody reexamined the local drought definition.  As we attempted (unsuccessfully, for the record) to wait out the storm, I explained to Hammer how I would be missing Hood to Coast this year.
  • 2 days after telling Hammer I was out of Hood to Coast, I randomly encountered Coach (Chris Spano) at the Davidson trails where we ran some 9 miles together.  By the time we finished, Coach may have talked me into joining him and the Big Kahuna’s (team name, lest there is any confusion) on another west coast adventure.
  • Joined Sarah for a few miles after running with Coach.  While I was whining about my difficulty completing long runs, Sarah suggested that maybe I should break the long run up into 2 shorter runs.  To which I, suffering from a condition known as Smartius Assius (I think I may have caught this from Nathan), responded, “Ah, good idea!  You think they’ll let us do that in the marathon?”  Sarah did not seem particularly amused by my sarcasm, and appeared even less so when I said, “You’ve got to nut up or shut up, Buttercup.”  Sarah, honestly, I was referring to myself.

Everybody’s caught up now.  I keep slogging away, hoping fitness will magically appear and hand me a golden ticket that reads, “This entitles the bearer to one entry into the 2013 Boston Marathon.”

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