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"

Monday, September 10, 2012

Boston registration opens up this morning for the Paul Ryans of the world who have met their qualifying standard by 20 minutes or more. (Actually, he needs to up his lying game: he was still a little too slow to have been able to register today.) I think this year, like every year so far, I'm going to sit Boston out. Yeah.

But! I did something amazing over the weekend! I ran, like an actual double digit run that could maybe be referred to as "long"! I know, right? I was all ready to direct you to Angry Runner's latest post, where she says what I've been thinking but angrier (and thinner and faster, the bitch). But see! Magic! I had one good run and now my life is totally different! Right?


  1. Oh, I totally understand this! Getting surgery on Thursday to fix some tendons after a year of doing nothing but rehab and deep water. I've now suddenly got 20 lbs to lose. They used the "large" arm cuff on me today at the doctor's for my pre-op appointment. GRRRR!

    I hope to see double digits again by April. I've missed them.

  2. Double digits are kind of a distant memory.