Aaaaaand we're back!

After last year’s endless summer of endless running selfies, you thought you were finally done with us. But nooooooo. We’re back again this summer, and we’re older than ever. And slower. At least I am. Rob and Scott SAID they were out of practice and out of shape before this, our first run together of the summer, but you and I both know the endless bullshit they spew to humiliate me in my dotage. And, as expected, they finished this morning’s three-mile run a whole month ahead of me.

But! I ran an exact 12:00 pace. And I find desperate validation in round, even numbers. So there’s that. Plus I found this old shirt I used to wear when I was young and buff. It used to be sure-thing tight around my arms. Now it’s sure-gonna-suffocate-me tight around my gut. But we sure had nice running weather. And it was a good thing to run with these two again.

Goodbye, beloved Disney World!

You may have filled me with too many carbs and made my feet hurt and given me painful runner chafing in unmentionable places, but I just can’t quit you and I intend to drag a whole posse of runners back for a visit in 2020.

So Disney races are built around being all-Disney-all-or-at-least-a-lot-of-the-time,

and yesterday’s half marathon didn’t disappoint, taking us through three of Walt Disney World’s four parks. Since the parks don’t butt up against each other, there are long stretches of roadways we slogged along, but every half mile or so there was a photo op with a Disney character or a rockin’ DJ or at the very least a screen showing a Disney movie. I’d planned to stop for many photo ops with the Disney characters since I was so unprepared for the race, but the lines were huge and I wasn’t getting tired and it’s REALLY hard to resume a long run after a prolonged stop so I just kept slogging.

The course took us through what felt like most of Animal Kingdom in the misty pre-dawn, which was just as magical as you could hope ... except Animal Kingdom has narrower walkways than the other parks, so we all had to focus more on dodging and weaving and not slamming into each other than on the abundant Disney magic.

Fun fact: The backstage areas behind the parks that we ran through are almost 100% gray trailers and golf carts and dumpsters with nary a trace of colorful Disney magic among them.

We also ran through a bit of Hollywood Studios, with the usually dour and ominous Tower of Terror bellhops screaming enthusiastically for us in their dour and ominous uniforms. Which was cool.

And our final mile ran from a backstage entrance near England in EPCOT, circled clear around the lagoon past every country—where I yelled “mange tusen takk!” to all the Norwegians cheering us on in their bunads—and then through the front of the park past the early (and cheering!) EPCOT guests and into the finish line by the entrance. It was truly glorious.

My GPS watch was faster than the official mile markers right away, which was just—for the lack of a more relevant term—goofy. And it got faster and faster by the mile, so my watch says I ran .37 miles farther than the standard 13.1:

But it gave me a half marathon badge when I synched it to the app on my phone, so there’s that:

I’m a little miffed that the New York Times covered the dinky New York Marathon instead of my epic Disney victory over my catastrophic lack of training, BUT I HAVE TWO MEDALS AND YOU HAVE ZERO, NEW YORK TIMES, SO THERE.

I also have more chafing in unmentionable places, but let’s not mention that.

Oh—and I got TONS of compliments and conversations from my Summer Of Running Away From Being 50 shirt as people passed me, which is an enthusiastic spin on saying TONS of people passed me. But I passed lots of walkers and drunks and staggering zombies, so I’m still a total rockstar. Right?

I was going to write a fun post about this morning’s race before I went to bed tonight,

but instead of post-race napping like a smart person I decided to jump right into post-race EPCOTing like a dumb person and I just now finally sloshed home in the rain and I’m so tired I can barely whine about my unmentionable-location chafing so here are the fireworks that Disney set off this morning to send my corral through the starting gate:

HECK YEAH I took selfies with both medals and my new I DID IT! shirt

I even full-teeth smiled in one because my mom said I need to stop smiling with my mouth closed even though I think my open-mouth smile looks kind of devious and creepy. Hide your children and valuables as you see fit.

MOUSEDAMNIT!

I was all emotionally prepared to just somehow get through today’s run and make it my last—and probably most painful—half marathon ever ... but I FREAKING LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT. And I ran the whole thing without stopping (except for water stations, which all runners get a pass on because running + drinking = spilling + wearing)—which is so huge to me that I’d maybe get choked up and cry if I had any moisture left in me.

SO PUT A 2020 GROUP DISNEY HALF MARATHON ON YOUR CALENDARS AND IN YOUR BUDGETS, RUNNER PEEPS. BECAUSE WE’RE GONNA ROCK IT TOGETHER! AND I’M NOT MOUSING AROUND.

Also: I have pictures! And funny things to post here that I thought up while I was running because what the hell else do you do for three hours with no distractions except the crap in your head? But I need a shower first. And 13.1 shovelfuls of food. And maybe a nap. I’m not sure yet whether or not I’ll post-race crash or post-race bounce off the walls. Stay tuned ...

I’m in my start corral!

We provide our estimated finishing times when we register for the race, which groups us with similar-paced runners into lettered starting corrals. The corrals for this race are lettered A through H for Afastest to Hslowest. I’m F for Fnoteveninthetophalf:

I haven’t heard a total runner number, but the group in front of me just in my starting corral is ENORMOUS:

Cool surprise: Jeff Galloway is on the stage chatting with the pre-race announcers as I type this. His Galloway Training Method propelled me through all four AIDS Marathons I ran in Chicago. And they introduced him by saying he’s run all 25 Disney marathons. Plus they just introduced some people who’ve run 100+ Disney races. The vibe here is SO COOL.

Except ... it just started raining. We have our work cut out for us.

The starting-line fireworks are in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

The last time I’ll pin a racing bib to my Summer Of Running Away From Being 50 shirt*

The last half marathon I’ll probably ever run, unless I have a tidal change of heart—and knee pain. Hopefully the last time I’ll compulsively eat like I’m running 20+ miles a week.

4:00 am alarm.

4:30 am bus.

5:30 am gun.

13.1 miles.

LET’S. MAKE. THIS. HAPPEN.

*Plastic “Wishing Star” not included in race. It was a little souvenir given to me for no discernible reason at our Cinderella’s Castle dinner. I put it in this traditional pre-race race-outfit photo to add a literal glimmer of Disney sparkle.

#HowToTurn50

Goodbye, Mickey 5K costume!

It’s been fun, but even in the 5:00 am Florida coolness, it’s also been hot. There’s a very good reason I never run in hats and long sleeves unless it’s below 50°: I’m a furnace.

Also: Hello, plastic box of morning and night bipolar meds that I just noticed are on the counter in front of me in my selfie! You make me a wiggly furnace.

Also: Our route this look morning looks like a laughing Muppet. Or a melting toilet with a plunger left in it:

Ladies and gentlemen, mouses and mouseses, goofs and goofeses, ERIK IS NOW A DISNEY MEDALIST!

(And the crowd goes wild woooo woooo woooo!)

TOTALLY unplanned, but we realized once we got to our starting corral that we both look exactly like random Disney characters.

And we’re off!

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I’d be poking safety pins through the front of my expensive new Mickey shirt for tomorrow’s race, but COSTUME PRIORITIES

So my bib is all pinned and my running trousseau is all assembled and laid out so it won’t get forgotten in the morning—WHICH STARTS AT 3:45 WHEN THE ALARM GOES OFF SO WHY AM I STILL UP BLOGGING I’LL TELL YOU WHY IT’S BECAUSE I OFTEN MISTAKE POOR CHOICES FOR PRIORITIES—except for the sword, which was given to me as a souvenir steak knife at tonight’s dinner in Cinderella’s castle and it made a cute accent piece for my running trousseau. GOOD NIGHT.

My hair isn’t being anyone’s friend on this trip.

Except maybe Ursula’s. I highly doubt I’ll be purchasing any commemorative race photos.

Race packet pickup!

I can’t decide which commemorative photo I like best ...

Running Mickey:

Relentless Logos:

or Optimistic Pre-Bought Finisher Shirt Spread Across My Chest For A Selfie In The Bus On The Way Back From The Fitness Expo To The Hotel:

Also: Packet pickup is a universally beloved pre-race tradition where all the racers get together in a huge room and pretend like they’re not all secretly ranking all the guys in order of who has the sexiest calves.

Dignity. Always dignity.

BIG! GLITTERY! MICKEY! BUTTONS!

We've run out of summer

1. Last training run of the season!
2. My second and last half marathon is in eight days.
3. And no, I won’t be training any more for it.
4. Because after my summer of chronic injuries and my aborted NewBo half marathon, I’ve kind of given up.
5. But I’ll start next weekend’s half marathon with optimism and see what happens.
6. I’ll also start with a super-cute outfit.
7. So there’s that.
8. Rob and Scott joined me this morning for our last hurrah of 2018.
9. They’ve been awesome running buddies and all-around friends all summer.
10. Now that training season is over, I’m sure we’ll revert to our usual state of evil, backstabbing nemesises.
11. Those poopyheads.
12. See? It’s already started.
13. It’s impossible to say nemesises without sounding gay.
14. Same with cilantro citrus salad.
15. Sssssssssssssss.
16. Chicago David was in town so he also ran with us.
17. But he’s either an overachiever or a showoff because he kept running when we stopped so he could do more miles.
18. So he didn’t get to be in the selfie.
19. The poopyhead.
20. Nemesises.
21. I’m sweaty.
22. And sleepy.
23. And sworn to secrecy about my cilantro citrus salad recipe.
24. So shhhhhhhhhh!
25. I saw a show long ago that took place on a gay ship named the SS Sibilant S.
26. I don’t remember where I saw it, but it was silly.
27. Anyway.
28. We chose a pretty tree as the background for our final selfie today.
29. Which is so low-concept that it forced me to wander off on a whistley-lisp tangent here.
30. Whistley lisp.
31. Cilantro Nemesis and the Whistley Lisps.
32. I’ll take Polka-Punk Bands I Would Never Listen To for ssssssix hundred, Alex.
33. Sssssssso sssssssleepy.
34. My knee injury is apparently NOT as healed as it had led me to believe.
35. I don’t see it causing me any problems for the Disney races, but it will certainly make its presence known.
36. I may have a goofknee, but at least I don’t have a plutoe.
37. I just made that up.
38. You owe me sssseven dollars if you found it amusing.
39. Good jokes don’t write themselves.
40. And a GOOD joke would cost you a whole lot more.
41. Mom made a peach pie while we were out running.
42. I bought my folks some fancy pie fillings when I was in Galena.
43. And my dad’s birthday is Tuesday.
44. Which is more than enough reason to spontaneously bake a pie.
45. So is the fact that the jars of pie filling were still sitting on the counter where they couldn’t be ignored.
46. Since he’s blind, we’re getting him an Alexa (or one of her smart-speaker sisteren, I forget which) in the hopes that she’ll make it easier for him to listen to the news or play music or bake a pie or whatever else it is that those things do.
47. Since he’s blind, he also can’t read Facebook so I can say what his gift is here and he’ll never know.
48. AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BLAB TO HIM.
49. Because Alexa will find out and hunt you down and make you listen to Polka Punk.
50. Smart speaker sisteren.
51. You thought I was gonna let that one slide, didn’t you?
52. Ssssslide.
53. To review:
54. Nemesises.
55. Cilantro citrus salad.
56. Sweaty.
57. Sleepy.
58. Sworn to secrecy.
59. Cilantro citrus salad recipe.
60. SS Sibilant S.
61. Silly.
62. Whistley lisp.
63. Cilantro Nemesis and the Whistley Lisps.
64. Smart-speaker sisteren.
65. Ssssslide.
66. Sixty-six.
67. Well THAT was a surprising coincidence.
68. Surprising coincidence.
69. Sssssssso sssssssleepy.
70. See ya!

Make like a tree

While I will always hate fall—because it signals the death of summer and portends the hellscape of winter plus it somehow compels everyone to talk about pumpkin spice, which is neither delicious in anything nor funny in jokes—this tree is kinda pretty. Plus the weather was kinda perfect for a run just now. Plus I ran three miles at an 11:19 pace, which is faster than I’d mentally budgeted for.

Now I’m off to shower and work up a sweat anew at Elf dance rehearsal. Which also—but in a charming, jazz-handsy way—portends the hellscape of winter. But I choose not to think about that.

I’ve been super-duper-stupid-bad about training for my half marathon three weeks from now

Partly because I was defeated by my knee injury that killed my last half marathon. Partly because it got cold and I hate running in the cold. Partly because I’ve found myself burned out on running after this intensive summer. Partly because I’m really good at coming up with excuses to stay in bed in the mornings. Partly because it’s been so long since I’ve run that my running watch was dead this morning and needed to be charged. (Is that enough partlys? Partly.)

Anyway, none of this stops the looming half marathon from crushing my knees anew, so run I must. Plus if I’m going to run in yellow Mickey Mouse shoes, I need to do some trial runs in the three (yes, three. because I have a shoe-shopping problem. shut up.) pair of yellow running shoes I’ve bought over the years because they were yellow and not because they were good running shoes for my gait and stride.

And these shoes have a splash of pink at the heel, which offers a tantalizing hint-or-not-hint-I’m-not-telling about my questionable sexuality. Hmmm ....

So off I run!

Separate the glass from the plastic, yo

1. We’re running out of interesting things to put in our post-run selfies.
2. Like, REALLY running out.
3.
4.
5. Meet ... our recycling bin.
6. It’s blue.
7. It’s full of recyclables.
8. It’s by the curb because today is recycling day.
9. Which nicely dovetails into the fact that today is also garbage day.
10. It’s like a two-for-one.
11. Except the bins get emptied and their contents are never seen again. So it’s more like a two-for-none.
12.
13.
14. Usually the things in our weird selfies give me a launching-off point for my weird-ass ramblings that have at least some semblance of conversational value.
15.
16.
17. I just made stupid-dumb jokes about our garbage day instead.
18. Which is also our recycling day.
19. Sigh.
20.
21.
22. It was all-ass FREEZING this morning.
23. And the trail we run on is relentlessly straight.
24. Which makes it a brutally efficient wind tunnel.
25. My fingers are almost throbbing.
26. And I think I ingested a quart of runny-nose snot on our windy-ass, freezing-ass run.
27. Rob and I (but not our absent and probably imaginary friend Scott) joked about turning around at the one-mile mark.
28. I bet we would have done it if one of us had joked just a LITTLE bit harder.
29. But we didn’t.
30. I’m officially glad we ran our planned three-mile distance.
31. I’m also glad I got out of bed and stuck to our commitment to run in the first place.
32.
33.
34. But not really.
35. I JUST POSTED A PICTURE OF OUR DAMN RECYCLING BIN, PEOPLE.
36. It’s blue.
37. Sigh.
38.
39.
40. So.
41. Three miles.
42. 10:55 pace.
43. Half of which was running into an icy wind.
44. Did I mention that quart of runny-nose snot?
45. And people wonder why I’m single.
46. I could really use a nap.
47. And it’s not even 8:00 am yet.
48. But it will be by the time I turn off this word faucet, proofread my unhinged ramblings and post it all.
49. So hello to future-proofreading me!
50. I’m going to leave 51. open for me to say hello back from the future.
51.
52. Shit.