Where: Veteran's Park (21st & Boulder)
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The Hard Part is Done
Still less than 100 %, but most of us should be back to our basic routine and core training schedule this week.
Yep, we got last week's sandy springs and lakey ‘McMurderies out of our system, and we can now focus on what we do best - mutilating route directions, getting lost but rarely admitting it, harassing fellow/fellowette runners, complaining about every nagging ache or pain, stuffing our post run faces with carbonage, and overall loving every sweatingly minute of the Tulsa Runners World Dom-N-8RZ marathon training experience. That’s what I’m talking about!
Oh, the places we have been, the stories we can commun-i-fabr-i-cate, and the trail damages that we have inflicted …. It’s these misremembered memories that allow us to once again pursue the rapidly approaching goal that seemed so distant and semi-committed way back when. Once again, the power of body and spirit weakening substances reigns supreme over our arguably otherwise rational decision making capabilities. There’s a reason why races are carefully labeled with daring and intriguing monikers such as “Midnight Madness” as opposed to the more descriptive and accurate “50 Miles of Excruciating Pain and Body Slamming Humidity”. Something about friends don’t let friends suffer alone, Missouri loves company, and other traditional saying two numbersome to speak of, take it or leave a half baker’s dozen – you get my drift lumber.
So this Sat (all the cool people now say “Sat” versus the prior word that described the day after Friday and the one before Sunday – wouldn’t be cool to slip in a reckless ‘urday), we remuster at Veteran’s Park, say around 6:45 AM’ish, administer our ever popular group air hugs where we try to sacrificially expel all our slow running genes/genettes, and with semi-coordinated laces and increasing pulse rates wait in tepid anticipation for this week’s chaotic route instructions. We confidently and silently assure ourselves that the exhilarations of running off course are just a few tens of minutes away, but still, it takes the patience of Job, as well as the disabled ears of great grandpa to make it through another one of Pretty Boy Brian’s megaphone protracted post dawn sermons.
Also, back by popular demand, this week’s run has been carefully and sadistically infused with sloping sections that magically trend upward in a 4 to 1 disproportion to the portions oriented towards the down low. And just to provide the right balance of rigid scientificological data collection required to prove whatever lost point that I originally envisioned, we’ve solemnly vowed to switch our garmins from left to right, turn our maps over and upside down, and re-run the 6’ish mile slopewinder course in reverse for our second lap. Breadcrumbs and spray paint might come in handy. Mileage du jour de Sat is 12 (Int) and 14 (Adv), presuming we can once again comply with our recently enacted No Hitting Run Leaders Policy. Special advice for our flailing fashionistas: Peeking ahead just a bit at the weatherometer, I don’t recommend wearing anything that won’t survive a severe desweatification process.
With the time and the date and the course, and finally the last minute tip-o-da-week instructions to stay primarily in an upright posture all set, the hard part is truly done. All that’s left is to leg it out, and to hope that next week we get to run a long one.
Larry
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