...REALLY SUCKS!
Y'all know that in honor of the Obama Presidency, I am trying to get back in shape. I have two-pronged reasoning for this. First of all, exercise and good physical fitness help stave off the ravages of depression.
Secondly, I fear we will all have to be in very good physical condition to withstand the global societal, and economic iceberg that "The One" is skillfully ruddering us toward.
So, back on the road I am. And I'm trying to figure out just exactly what it was I enjoyed about running. For years, every morning I would rise before daybreak, drink two big glasses of water, take a dump, lace up the Nikes, and out the door. 5 miles, 8 miles, sometimes 12 or 15 if I was getting ready for a marathon, or half.
I obviously loved it, and it wasn't a chore at all. I inhaled every book by Dr. George Sheehan, and other running gurus. I subscribed to Runner's World magazine, and devoured every issue. I know that I enjoyed the solitude, the time alone with my thoughts away from the bustle of the family. I know I liked the way it made me feel physically.
Now that I'm back at it, I can't decided what I enjoy most, the burning in the lungs, the excruciating muscle pain, or the humiliation of being run past on the road by 50-year-old women.
But I did enjoy it immensely...I guess. Here is a picture of me with my two oldest boys right after I won the 1989 Dallas White Rock Marathon. (Dang, has it really been 20 years?) It was cold in Dallas that day. This picture was taken before the awards ceremony where I received my $20,000 check, and 4-foot high trophy...I can't seem to find that picture anywhere...
Secondly, I fear we will all have to be in very good physical condition to withstand the global societal, and economic iceberg that "The One" is skillfully ruddering us toward.
So, back on the road I am. And I'm trying to figure out just exactly what it was I enjoyed about running. For years, every morning I would rise before daybreak, drink two big glasses of water, take a dump, lace up the Nikes, and out the door. 5 miles, 8 miles, sometimes 12 or 15 if I was getting ready for a marathon, or half.
I obviously loved it, and it wasn't a chore at all. I inhaled every book by Dr. George Sheehan, and other running gurus. I subscribed to Runner's World magazine, and devoured every issue. I know that I enjoyed the solitude, the time alone with my thoughts away from the bustle of the family. I know I liked the way it made me feel physically.
Now that I'm back at it, I can't decided what I enjoy most, the burning in the lungs, the excruciating muscle pain, or the humiliation of being run past on the road by 50-year-old women.
But I did enjoy it immensely...I guess. Here is a picture of me with my two oldest boys right after I won the 1989 Dallas White Rock Marathon. (Dang, has it really been 20 years?) It was cold in Dallas that day. This picture was taken before the awards ceremony where I received my $20,000 check, and 4-foot high trophy...I can't seem to find that picture anywhere...
Of course I didn't win the White Rock. But I did hit my target goal time of "any time before the course closes, and ahead of all folks 70 & over." No kidding, there was a 75 year old woman from Irving, TX that finished that year, and a 97 year old male doctor from New York that finished also before the course closed.And I whipped their fannies!
I did win a few "age division" awards in those days, but nothing worth bragging about. I always just enjoyed the competition (against "myself"), and the feeling of accomplishment when a goal had been reached.
Maybe running doesn't really suck. Maybe I really suck. I've got to learn how to enjoy it again I guess...or not...
I really suck.
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