The following is my recap from the Prince of Wales International Marathon
I’m writing this column in my head as I run a half-marathon, hoping that A.) I remember great lines should they come as my feet pound the asphalt, B.) enough interesting things happen to make it worth reading and C.) it’s interesting, but not because it ends up being my athletic or actual obituary.
Warmups and pre-race anticipation is over-hyped and boring. I just want to get started. I’m not nervous, or excited. My pre-race emotions can be summed up best by the great scholar-poet Ron Burgundy who said, “apparently you just run for an extended period of time.”
That’s all I’m going to do, and it will probably be more of a jog than a run. Unless there’s a bear. Or wolves.
My buddies and I are wearing flannel shirts. Not because we have #SWAG but because a few years ago some other friends and I ran a six-mile race in flannels and it’s sort of a tradition. Plus, outside of writing two columns a week and freelancing for a magazine once in a while, I don’t have a full-time job. No one without a full-time job can have swag. Impossible.
Start time. Here we go. Nice and easy, it’s only 13 miles.
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