You don't like me--and never have, since this is a grudge you've been nursing ever since I first offered you my flabby alabaster wears, whereupon you repaid me by lashing out and turning my entire body into a jar of Ragu and I was like "oh, real klassy, sun, is that the way it's gonna be?"--and I definitely don't like you. Well that's not entirely true. Despite your UV baggage, I like having you around for barbecues, weddings, trips to Six Flags, and the duration of most vacations somewhere fun. But you and I, we have GOT to work something out regarding this running a half marathon in a month if you insist on being blistering. Because our current sitch just isn't gonna help me drag my ass across the finish line, particularly since there's a slight chance you won't be my only obstacle depending on how magnanimous the orthopedic surgeon is feeling in a few weeks...
a brief bragging tangent: Lord have I achieved what i previously assumed would be impossible in distance running, and such was my dismay even before the wrist fracture and determining that running with a cast on, while not preferable, isn't that bad (although definitely Hot, and I can assure you the cast currently smells AWESOME and is only going to grow that much more pungent with each passing day--you've been warned). It is weird but totally elating to transport yourself eight miles from home by your own feet and barely even realize just how far eight miles really is until you look up to see yourself on Avenue M on Easter Sunday in a tank top and stretchy pants and realize, FUCK, IT'S COLD!!! before proceeding to shiver/limp half the length of Ocean Avenue back home with a raging case of headlights past a procession of scandalized OJ's. But that's what I did!
And that pernicious hill in Prospect Park? So my bitch now, and a couple of times over! I'm not exactly leaving skid marks on the pavement when i climb it, (does anyone else have a problem disassociating that term with poopy pants?), but I have successfully looped the park two times in a row without stopping or vomiting, which is extra fortuitous since this is exactly what I will have to do in the marathon. My prayers were answered, and this year's race has us starting out in the park, exiting onto Ocean Ave, and only doing a tiny swatch of the Coney Island boardwalk before ending by Keyspan Park.
The big question now is what the weather will bring. I'm hoping it's crappy. Not sure if other runners feel similarly, but I prefer just about anything short of a torrential downpour and high powered winds if i'm clocking over three miles. It's true that an 8 AM start time staves off the worst of a sun-scorcher, but temperatures also rise fast, and I sweat so profusely when i run that not even a sweatband can prevent tributaries of salty/burny goodness from half blinding me if the sun is beating down (take a number, boys!), something I learned the hard way yesterday afternoon when I set out for nine miles and barely cleared two. Ouch. I'm sure perseverance in this case is mostly a mind-over-matter thing, but if it's a nice day, can I reach some sort of tacit agreement with the sun being around before race time?
Or maybe I should i just puff my belly wayyy out and use my raccoon tail to soar over it?
