On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"

Tuesday, November 23, 2010


I chose going out for drinks and sushi with a friend I haven't seen in a while last night over writing up a race report.  So you'll have to wait until tomorrow for the stunning details of the Flying Monkey Marathon.  My report tomorrow morning can be a Thanksgiving weekend gift to you.  Until then...

One of the (many) post-marathon "congratulations now buy some stuff" emails I've gotten from the NYRR since the marathon ended:

While it's true that my riesling has to suffer the indignity of being served in a tumbler I borrowed from a monastery (instead of fine, Tiffany China), I think I'm good.


  1. Have you seen the price of those things? Insane!

  2. I'm kind of afraid I did. Evidently when Betsy, Ian, Trent, and I all stood in the same place drinking beer for a few quick minutes, an unseen force was created and computer shit blew up.

    Mike, you must come and do the race next year. Have you thought about it?

  3. you did THREE marathons in two months?? Jesus, woman.

    I think my company needs to get in on the marathon exploits. What are your thoughts on a NYCM commemorative swimming pool?

  4. I think... ULS skinny dipping party?

  5. works for me! I will need about 7 cocktails before I go bare-ass though.

    Just kidding, it's like half a glass of wine.

    Just kidding I'M NEKKID RIGHT NOW!