42Ks in 42 Days

If you look to the right, you’ll see a lovely photo of me when I was in the best running shape of my life.

I always thought I looked pretty good in this action shot (thin, defined), but when I show it to anyone other than runners, they get kind of grossed out. “Too thin,” said one friend. “Are you terminal?” asked another. I guess the emaciated look isn’t for everyone.

Today’s scheduled run almost didn’t happen. I wasn’t sore (that would have been a bad sign after one day of running), but I was mentally exhausted after working overtime three days straight. I took a little nap after work in the hope it would give me a boost, but I ended up feeling worse when I woke up. I easily could have slid into bed, but I forced myself out the door before I let total laziness take over.

When a run starts off on the wrong foot, I try to distract myself by people watching. Luckily, I had plenty to look at. I saw one guy listening to headphones and talking to himself loudly around Citadel Hill, immediately followed by a dude slowly pedaling up the slight incline on a rickety old bike. He wasn’t talking to himself, but he did have a red flashing light on the top of his helmet. I don’t think he was a bike cop, but I could be wrong.

Next I ran into a group of friends walking home from a Gilmour Girls party. I circled them, made small talk, and continued on my way without learning a thing about the season premier. I’ll save my parties for the World Series and Wrestlemania, thank you.

The action slowed down for a while, but picked up again once I got to the student-dominated section of South Street. Within the span of two blocks I watched a group of guys do something that might be considered dancing, a man try to get an ambulance to turn on its siren (with that universal honk your horn sign), and a group of people playing a spirited game of Ultimate Frisbee. I love the game, but the only time I ever played in a tournament I pretty much ruined my ankle. I don’t know how it happened, but I think I’ll stay away from the game until after the marathon, just to be safe.

Then came the coup de gras: A pretty girl smiled at me as I ran by. My friend Jamie believes that we’re more apt to get checked out while running because it’s obvious we’re keeping ourselves in shape, but I’ve seen the way I look after a run and just assume that it’s a pity grin. Either way, I’ll take it.

I arrived at home a half an hour later, no worse for wear. It wasn’t a great outing – I was heavy on my feet and had no kick whatsoever – but considering I didn’t even feel like running, it wasn’t too bad. If work stays hectic, though, I might have to consider running in the morning in order to avoid the after work collapse. Anyone want to jog with me at 6AM? Didn’t think so.

This article appears in Sep 21-27, 2006.