The odds were not in my favor.
Wait – The Hunger Games involves a fictionalmockingjay, not a mockingbird, right?
Then how about “it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird?” To be fair, I didn’t kill this mockingbird – it nearly killed me.
The humidity was rough from the start, although it never quite got around to raining.
Rather thank buckets of rain, it was just buckets of overheated sweat as we went round and round 12 times. There were some rolling hills and one decently sized one that was a sharp hairpin turn… it hurt both going down and going up.
It hurt therefore 24 times I crossed it – 12 down, 12 up.
But down and back I went. Sometimes shuffling, sometimes limping, sometimes walking, but always, always trying to make forward progress… or after the turnaround, back-ress to the start line to count my lap.
I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically – I’m just done. I’m not in pain or hurting anymore than the usual aches and pains of a running life… but, howdy doody, I’m just struggling with pace and movement. I used to be able to do these multi-day series and maintain a sub-4 or close to it pace. But not yesterday… and definitely not today.
To make matters worse, I snapped a photo at the end and it shows all-too-clearly that I think I’m losing my hair. To remedy this, I’ve doctored the photo with a “Team Atticus Finch” hat. Poorly rendered CGI is preferred at the moment to the harsh ravages of time and distance.
Aside from that, Mirs Lincoln, how was the play? The mosquitoes were out in full force. I feel like I was an all-you-can-suck buffet for those things and even now, hours after a shower, I still feel like they’re buzzing around, landing, biting, and I itch as if some jokester had doused me with itching powder purchased from the back pages of an old Boy’s Life magazine.
There are still two days to go. I confirmed with George that both courses are supposedly 12 loops apiece for marathoners… meaning I still have 24 loops to go spread out over two states.
I’m so tired. My mom asked me if I was having fun – I guess so, although at this moment it’s less fun and more just running on adrenaline and stubbornity.
I am a racing jackass; hear me bray.