Ooooh ... you're a handsome devil. What's your name?

The Pjammer Chronicles

I have more hit points than you could possibly imagine.

Sunday, February 1st, 2004
The experience of Pain, as we know, can manifest itself in a myriad of ways.

  • There is the pain of investing trust and friendship in someone, only to watch them turn around and lie about you to mutual acquaintences for social mileage.

  • There is the pain of being at a shooting range, watching a hot, freshly-ejected .45 ACP brass from the person in the next lane arc right into your turtleneck, and burn a sizzling scar onto your neck while you desperately try to fish it out.

  • And then, of course, there is the pain of realizing at mile six of a 13.1-mile half-marathon that, thanks to steady drizzling rain, you are getting a blister in your left shoe and will run the latter half the race rubbing your toe raw ... deciding to go through with it anyway and then finding yourself lying in bed massaging your aching legs a few hours later, tapping away obscure crap for your online journal on a laptop.

All of these pains, and many more, I have experienced in my lifetime - but I give you three guesses which one I am feeling right now.

From a steady 8:30 split/pace to hobbling on one foot near the end, I ended up finishing over an hour behind the #1 runner. Under different circumstances, I'd write more details about today's race, except, well, for [3]. Ouch.

Memo to self: Remember that the first person to run a Marathon dropped dead shortly after the ordeal; it might be a good idea to log in more training before volunteering for another one of these endurance events.

Fun race, all sardonic commentary notwithstanding. Highly rewarding. Will try to corral other local friends into joining me for the next big run. :)
Mood: exhausted

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