Flashes of Panic

I ran Beach to Beacon this weekend. This was the 11th running of the race; I’ve run it at least four times, maybe five. It’s a good course, the race is well run, and despite the crowds I tend to run decently well there.

I’ve also had remarkably good luck working my “connections” here, though never as good as at the first running, when for reasons I’ll never understand I was given an elite athlete number (with all the attendant privileges.) I think I ran about 36 flat that year, so you can understand that I didn’t get the number for my speed.

This year it started when I bought a pair of shoes from the owner of the National Running Center at the Expo. He remembered me from RW and asked for my card so he could ask about their website. I don’t know if that’s going to generate any business (more on that later, if I remember) but business cards are like seeds.

At the end of the race, I heard a familiar voice as I approached the finish line. I called and waved, and as a result I can be picked out in the finish line video because Toni Reavis reminded me over the PA that I didn’t manage to break 40:00.

(My brother and I shortened the race name to “Beach to Bacon” and had decided we would go to the food tent after the race and ask where the bacon was, but apparently we were both too tired to remember this joke post-race.)

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