Happy Friday, folks!
Things have been going relatively well for me on the running front. Getting out there, doing some low and slow miles, backing off when I detect the any murmurs of impending revolt. I’ve been able to go out for a couple longer trail runs in our nearby Mecca for dirt fiends, and aside from some ankle soreness from being a cripple for so long (atrophy sucks) I’m feeling pretty good!
The hardest thing to get back is proving to be my lungs. My body clearly remembers how to manage energy over a long period, but I frequently feel like I’m sucking air through a wet ninja mask. Which of course I’m not. Really.
The big thing in my head right now is the lottery drawing for Western States 100 tomorrow. It’s the overbearing loud asshat in the club, picking fights with my prefrontal cortex over popped collars, drunkenly hitting on my cerebellum, and throwing up on my pituitary. All other parts of my brain are aware of its presence, whether they want to be or not. The fact is that June is the absolute soonest I can imagine possibly building up to being able to tackle that race, and even then it would be a long shot.
If my name gets drawn tomorrow, first I’ll be all like
Then I’ll be all like
Then I’ll settle into a comfy
Honestly, I would be unbearably excited to give it all I’ve got and terrified of an endeavor for which I don’t think I’ll ever feel fully prepared. Hey, what’s adventure if not flinging oneself into the unknown in pursuit of a dream?
It’s only a slight chance, anyway:
Have a swell weekend, guys and dolls.