There’s a scene in Rambo III. You know what I’m talking about. John Rambo is waging war against the Russians in Afghanistan and has been shot in the side. He’s bunkered down in some cave, hurting, but he’s a survivor. In order to cauterize the wound he takes some gun powder and packs it into his flesh and then in a literal trial by fire, he sets himself on fire to seal the hole in his side. A howl of pain echoes through the chamber and into the desert air.
That’s how my side feels. Like I’ve set myself on fire. I think it’s better than having some punk wannabe royal jab a pin into a voodoo doll. Because really this should mean I’m on the mend. Still, it hurts like a rolling Stallone.
To survive a marathon, you’ve got to become a marathon. So onward I go…
Because temperatures are breaking 100 as the days wear on here in the Northwest, the good people at Mainly Marathons are offering a SUPER-Early Start of 4 am. I hope I won’t need the extra time but I’m going to take advantage of it so as to get on the road a bit earlier later today. It’s supposedly a 2.5 hour drive to Lewiston, ID, so an extra hour means I can get there hopefully by lunchtime.
Besides, I’m not sleeping anyway. I did get a few hours nap in the afternoon which is more than I’ve gotten in one go in ages. But it’s 12:47 am and I need to be up at 3:07 if I’m going to be running by 4.
No rest for the wicked; no rest then for me.