The race is not for the swift...

...but for those who keep going. --Fred Lebow

"Are you alright, Buddy?"
"I just need some alone time, Papa."

I've been away from the blogosphere. Just trying to figure some things out. I'm back. Things aren't figured out, yet. Alas.

Now that the fall/winter hockey season is officially over for all of my teams, it's time to seriously train for the SanFran Marathon. Apparently, I can't do a long run and play a competitive hockey game in the same day. This seriously messed with my running schedule. I guess I'm not in shape enough. Well, by the fall, I will be. I'll be able to do a 10-miler AND kick ass on the ice. Got the goal. Got the schedule. Now it's time to do the work.

I fully implemented John Bingham's marathon training plan last Sunday and nothing will get in the way now. So, per the schedule, I went for a glorious long run today in beautiful Denver. It was the perfect running weather: not too hot, nice breeze, big blue sky over head, warm sun. Things were great. iPod was fully charged. Shoes felt good. Energy level high. Then at mile 4.3, things went south, so to speak.

Lesson learned:

If I eat this 30 minutes before a run,

I will need to find a

QUICKLY!

And it wasn't until mile 5.7 that I located the green box of hell smells. It was about 80 degrees out today and the park was REALLY busy. Ergo, the portOjohns were busy, too. I feel violated and I may never be the same again. It was a toss up for me: use the green box or just squat in the trees behind the green box. No, the trees wouldn't have offered much privacy, but at least the air was clean. I opted for the green box. Ugh. Just. Nasty. At least there was paper...

I can't decide if the last 5 miles were better or worse post green box experience. I'm thinking of just burning my running clothes and dipping myself in bleach.

Select poignant songs heard on iPod during run today:

Runaway by Bon Jovi

Don't Stop Believing by Journey

Oooh Oooh by Pat Benetar

Sometimes It's a Bitch by Stevie Nicks