I am proud to say that I didn't finish last. I out sprinted 3 old ladies pushing walkers during the last 1/2 mile of the race.
I finished in one piece, but my right big toe didn't. When I finally took off my shoes, the big toe was black and blue. I have no idea why, but it still hurts three days after the race.
Running is time consuming. Not only the hours spent running the marathon, but the time spent training.
The run was my handcart moment. At the 11 mile mark, I was done. I kept thinking that if the pioneers could cross the Sweetwater river in ice and snow and if they could trudge up Rocky Ridge weak and hungry, I could go another two miles.
Here are some things I learned from running.
1. Running is over-rated. I must have started too late in life because for 12 weeks, my body always hurt.
2. Running shoes are more expensive than tires for your car. They told me I needed special running shoes. They are only good for 300 miles. They cost as much as a new tire, but a tire lasts at least 15,000 miles.
3. I also learned when water is available, take it. I thought there would be water all along the course. There wasn't. I finished very, very thirsty and probably a little dehydrated.
Anyway, I finished. Not dead last and more importantly, not dead. That is more than I can expect when I finish this life's race. Here are some more photos.
Next Saturday it goes to 11 miles. We finally registered for the race and it had a disclaimer at the bottom of the form. It said, not recommended for old and fat men, but we will gladly accept your $35 entry fee anyway.
All the running groupies I met while being suckered in to buying some brand of shoe I have never heard of told me, "You must really be enjoying the endorphins produced by your running".
Those so called endorphins must be nesting with the swallows in Capistrano and haven't made it this far north yet. The only physical advantage I can actually see since running is that my rump is now tinier and more taut.
Big deal, as yet no Hollywood agent has approached me to see if I want to be a butt double for some movie star. To date the only butt calls I get are while driving in the left lane of the freeway while cruising at 45 mph.That happens to be 41 miles per hour faster than I am currently running.
We'll see what happens on September 10.
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Time for a 1/2 marathon update.
I got on the scales two days ago and was surprised to find that I had lost an authentic 4-pound lard bucket of weight.
Maybe there is something to exercising that leads to weight loss. For those who weren't paying attention, my daughter and I are in training to run a one-half marathon on September 10.
We are now entering our fourth week of running. This week we have to go 5 miles. It seems to be working. I no longer have a desire for a big dump truck to hit me head on. I have now settled for a small Hyundai hitting me from behind to put be out of my misery.
As I mentioned before, misery loves company. My niece's husband has said he will now join us.
A guy can't run without some sort of goal in mind. Here's mine.
My wife thinks I'm crazy. She wants to know why I would even want to wear a 15-year old coat that I have to hide to keep her from throwing away.
It's a man thing. I have a pair of comfort pants that I have worn for 15 years. And now, hopefully I will have a comfort coat to go along with the pants.
By the way, my wife is in for a huge surprise. If after a 1/2 marathon, I accomplish my goal of getting into my favorite coat, I am going to go for a full marathon to see if I can get in to a pair of these.
Take a good look. You probably won't see me alive much longer.
This is how I looked today after running 2.2 miles in 90 degree weather. My daughter must need the insurance money because she has talked me into running a half marathon with her this September. She has a complete training regimen set up.
She almost cashed in early yesterday on our first day of running 2 miles. I thought I had died, but no such luck for her. I attribute my still being alive to a lifelong diet of Dr Pepper and Doritos. It's the food and drink of marathoners world wide. At least those who live west of I-15 in Orem.
I will admit that I also was ready to cash in today. At the 1.75 mile mark, I was hoping one of the big dump trucks on Geneva road would do me and my daughter a favor and hit me head on. It would have solved her monetary dreams and my misery.
Since misery loves company, here is the training regimen she has us on in preparation for the 12-plus mile run in Draper, Utah, sometime in September. By the way, that works out to be 2 miles for every decade I have lived.
Feel free to join us. Running that is, and not driving the dump truck down Geneva road.
Thanks to my daughter passing the video below on to me, I am sending it on to you.
For those of you who have a more moderate view of women and are looking for that perfect Mother's Day gift, we suggest you check out a great idea here.
I spent last week back East on a trip to Amish Country in Lancaster County, PA. Here is what I saw.
There were plenty of horses and buggies everywhere we went.
When you have horses and buggies, you also have a biological byproduct. That's when I came up with my new idea of selling Authentic Amish horse hooey from Intercourse. Look for it on EBAY .
My wife, who accompanied me on the trip, quickly pooh-poohed the idea. Next in line in my lists of ideas generated from the trip is to write a book about the ecumenical equality between the Amish and Mormons.
It occurred to me while shopping at a small grocery store one evening while in Amish country. I was standing in line behind a Amish man at the check out counter. I glanced down at my cart and it looked typically Mormon to me. There were chocolate chip cookies, yogurt, Dr. Pepper, Doritos and Hershey bars.
I felt kind of ashamed of my grocery stash until I glanced at the Amish man and his shopping cart. I had expected to see alfalfa sprouts, tofu and whole wheat bread. Instead I saw a box of Fruit Loops and a package of Twinkies.
That's when I came up with my book idea. My wife quickly and quietly hinted to me that comparing Mormons and the Amish using me and the man at the check out counter as examples was not a good idea. She reminded me that I am probably not the most mainstream Mormon she knows and that the man in the black clothes and straw hat in front of me probably belonged to the re-organized break-away Fruit Loop branch of the Amish Church.
That's when I came up with my book idea. My wife quickly and quietly hinted to me that comparing Mormons and the Amish using me and the man at the check out counter as examples was not a good idea. She reminded me that I am probably not the most mainstream Mormon she knows and that the man in the black clothes and straw hat in front of me probably belonged to the re-organized break-away Fruit Loop branch of the Amish Church.
I Get Gettysburg
I blame it on a California high school education and ego-centric personality. I had read about Gettysburg. I had studied about Gettysburg. But I didn't really "Get Gettysburg" until last week while standing on the same battlefields where real men shed real blood.
The fact that one of those men was the grandfather of my mother-in-law and the great grandfather of my wife, made Gettysburg a very poignant, meaningful and reverent experience.
Unfortunately, Alice, the affectionate name I gave the woman who kept giving me instructions from the GPS in our rental car, wasn't as well versed as I was in Mormon map reading.
She somehow calculated that the best route from our hotel in Alexandria to the D.C. Temple was through downtown D.C. during rush hour.traffic.
Trust me, this was not a poignant, meaningful and reverent experience.
It quickly became that way, however, upon arriving on the temple grounds.
In defense of women in general and especially the one barking out instructions from the GPS, my wife kindly reminded me that "Alice" might have actually been "Albert" with a Viennese Boys' Choir voice.
I liked it and checked out a couple of nurseries over there to see what it was. I thought that if it could grow in London, it should be able to grow in Utah.
To make a long story even longer, I bought some seeds and planted them upon our return. The official name of the tree is Cordyline Australis. They are also known as Torbay Palms.
All of this has led to a new business I started. It's called HB's Frosty Palms.
You can check it out by clicking here.
