Flashes of Panic

Due to the continuing failure of my foot to reach a runnable state, I won’t be running at Reach the Beach this year. Since I’m one of the few who actually knows where to drive between various exchanges, I’ll still be there, but not running, and the team is short a runner. Today, the team captain (who proposed to his wife at the finish line last year) started hitting the mailing list we were all initially recruited from, and asked us all to pipe up with our experiences.

I got soaked to the bone. I ran until my quads felt like bricks and I had to walk backwards down stairs. I ran (twice!) a hilly eight-mile course with no streetlights, between Sandwich and Center Harbor, on a course I’ve never seen in daylight. I spent thirty hours in a van so humid the charger contacts on my cell phone corroded. I was so worn out I nearly fell asleep in a glass of beer. And [one of my teammates] gave me a derisive nickname.

You couldn’t pay me enough to miss it.

Convincing, no?

Now playing: Space from Pleased to Meet You by James