Two things always come to mind when I’m in Mississippi. The first is the song, the one that taught us kids how to spell the River, State, and mudpie. The second is Neil Simon’s Biloxi Blues.
So as I sit here in Biloxi, that song and Matthew Broderick moaning about it being Tarzan movie hot are on a loop in my head.
Right now, at this moment, it’s a lovely day. Sixty-something, blue skies, empty white sand beaches. It’s downright charming.
There’s a storm a comin’.
There’s a pretty serious cold front barreling down on this place. Temperatures are set to plummet and a thundering rainstorm should sweep the area right about when I’m supposed to be running a 5k tomorrow. As for the marathon on Sunday, it should be clear skies but brisk cold.
So faced with potential adversity, I stress eat. A BBQ po’ boy courtesy of local go-to lunch spot.
And now, as so often I have done in the past, I watch the clouds roll in and ponder what the future holds.
M.I.S.S.I.S.S.I.P.P. et cetera…
***
Having picked up my bibs for the weekend’s races, I’m struck by two thoughts:
1) Boston Marathon champion Des Linden is here to congratulate runners as they finish and those that get a BQ have a special meet and greet at the finish. I’d love to be able to say that’s how I finished this race. Based on a variety of factors both within and beyond my control, make a it feel like a longshot. But I will say, that is one auspicious marathon bib number I’ll be wearing:
2) This may be one of the wettest races I’ve ever done. Not due to the projected rain storm tomorrow (I’ve run in some really soakers over the years). No, I’m talking about the pull tab beers on offer after the race. There are six (6!) tabs on the race bib. As if that wasn’t Dudley Moore-ian, Arthur-ian enough, there is a beer mile on Saturday afternoon (hard pass… had it been a WINE mile, well… come to think of it, I need to see about Medoc 2019).
And on top of that, the 5K bib has three (3!) beer pull tabs… which honestly makes the marathon a bit disappointing proportionally speaking. If 3.1 miles nets three beers, shouldn’t a 26.2 mile run merit 25.35 beers? That’s just simple math.
Now if you’ll excuse me, my liver is failing just from thinking about that amount of alcohol…
This is the wrong kind of carbo loading… especially since tomorrow is only a 5K.
This is no way to lose the weight to make the frame a little lighter on the ol’ joints.
Sigh.