Our second marathon training run is behind us. If you remember from last week’s report (or maybe you don’t; I may not have mentioned it and frankly I’m too lazy right now to go back and check), I moved up a pace group this year with Fearless Leader Matthew and George, who used to be known as New Running Buddy but George is faster to type and I don't have all day, people. So I’ll be training all summer 30 seconds per mile faster than last summer. Which should leave lots more time for blogging.
Unfortunately, Fearless Leader Matthew was in Paris this weekend celebrating a birthday whose number I don’t want to say here, but it looks like this when I type it: 40. So we had a pinch fearless leader, who ran us without looking at his watch to make sure we were on pace. Which is a roundabout way of saying he ran us TOO DAMN FAST. Of course, being too cheap to own my own running watch, I had no way of knowing this. And since I knew I was running in a faster pace group, I expected to be pushed a little. But by the first half mile on Saturday, I was convinced 30 seconds per mile was too much to ask of my rapidly aging body and I’d have to drop back to my old pace group, which this year is popluated with total strangers.
Imagine my relief, then, when we crossed the finish line and I stuffed my bloody lungs back down my throat and the AIDS Marathon staff chided our pinch fearless leader for freaking me out so damn much for running us WAY TOO DAMN FAST. Actually, they just chided him for running us too fast; apparently they could care less if some 39-year-old was freaking out because it seemed he was too old and wheezy to keep up with his friends. In any case, I’m gonna stay in this pace group. At least until my lungs pop out again.
George was Fearless Leader Matthew’s pinch photographer this weekend, but he kind of forgot to get out his camera much during our training run. Maybe because it was more of a sprint to the death than a standard-issue run. So though we ran 10 people, our team picture didn’t get taken until 40% of us (see how good I am at math?) had dispersed to the winds after we were done. But here are our leftover runners, all happy and content that they didn’t get any bloody lung on their clothes: