I know. What cheesy-ass fake-macho T-shirt did I get that slogan from?
Actually, I did get it from a T-shirt. About 10 years ago. And though it's just dripping with stupidly absolutist macho bluster, the sentiment has gotten me through many walls in many runs. And you can bet I'll be summoning the T-shirt slogan gods repeatedly for inspiration tomorrow in the marathon.
(Though, come to think of it, most running pain lasts months and months while the glory lasts for just those few seconds when you cross the finish line. But why split hairs?)
I spent today with my disarmingly hot friend Sonelius, who's in town from NYC to run. This morning we went to the fitness expo at McCormick Place to pick up our race packets and marathon T-shirts and assorted free doodads (like a styrofoam car-antenna decoration shaped like a smiling airlpane!) and then headed to a T-shirt shop in Boystown so I could get GO JAKE GO on the front of the shirt I'm wearing tomorrow (and -- in a fit of shameless self-promotion -- I also put MY FIRST MARATHON on the back). Then we had a leisurely lunch at a fussy sidewalk cafe while the gay royalty paraded by in its Too Tight T-Shirt Collection. (I swear, the gay royalty in this town can barely afford clothes that fit. It's really a tragedy.)
Now we're regrouping at our separate abodes and we'll meet up for our final carbo-load dinner tonight. Then it's off to bed at some ungodly early hour.
And then the pain. And then the glory. And I can't wait!