Pete stinks up the Chicago Marathon 2010
Hi peeps,
We all know we're obsessed about two wheels and going fast. But variety is the SPICE of life. Heretofor I shall be known at Pete Muad Dib, of Dune. (google Muad Dib)
And yes, I control the SPICE.
For some added SPICE, I registered for some non-biking events. I'm in hook, line and stinker for the Trek the Tower on Feb. 26th, the Lincoln Half-Marathon on May 1st, the Boulder Ironman 70.3 on August,7th and the 2011 Chicago Marathon on October 9th.
Why, you might ask? Running is EVIL, it is the Devil's Spawn. Well, I was Born to Run. I have rubber bands in my feet and special neck ligaments. I sweat through the skin and can run down a deer, or an elk, or any other furry friend. I survived when Neaderthal Man went bye-bye. Frankly, it is why I rule the World.
Some thoughts on these events:
Trek the Tower: 40 stories up, as fast as your peg-legs and bellows will take you. Reach the top and hack out huge lung oysters. Hack for two weeks afterwards from breathing in all the nasties that others have expelled whilst they climb in the enclosed stairwell. But hey, there is glory to be had. And Diet Coke is always the primary motivator. Nuke me with DC at the end all the agony is worth it.
Lincoln Half: Haven't done this, but did do the Omaha Half two years ago. This should be a breeze. Flat, half as long as a marathon (like that math?). I will be like a Tarahumara Indian dancing lightly on my feet as I swish to the end. Running with my Maple Y comrades, my brethren, my Bushmen. We shall herd the wildebeest before us, pick out the weaklings, keep them moving till they drop at our feet, and feast on their flesh.
Boulder Ironman: Oh, baby. Kansas 70.3 was a warning sign. I did it in thick air. Now move up to the thin air and try the same thing sans O2. The plan? Go deep into the Pain Cave. Confront Pain. Make friends with Pain. I must embrace the Pain. Make Pain work for me. I LOVE PAIN. My lifelong partner. Only Diet Coke can eradicate the Pain, make it go away.
Chicago Marathon: Oy! Nooooo! I swore I would never be back. Never another marathon. But, twasn't an hour later, the seed started sprouting in the lone brain cell. What if? What if I had started slower? What if I had rested more the day before instead of the sightseer Death March? What if I had eaten breakfast? What if I had taken sodium? What if I had actually trained for this? Now, I must go back. I must answer to the Unknown. I seek answers. Am I doomed and headed for another trainwreck? Or have I learned from my mistakes and have my VENGEANCE. Qualify for Boston with a 3:35? Ram home a DC twelve-pack right there, right after I collapse across the line. Bath in it. Swab me down with it. Inject me with it.
So. There it is. The Skeletons. The Plans. The Logic. The DC. In the end, it is all about the DC. The 100-yr plan. Or die trying.
Usul, the Mouse (aka Pete Muad Dib)
