The Promise

Post race euphoria usually lasts a few days after the run. You're memory is now associating the sights and sounds of the race with the physical sensations of sitting in a recliner, so like a minor childbirth, the living hell of pain you ran through is forgotten by your sense memory and, sure another race sounds like a good idea.

You're like a dumb puppy, head hanging out the window of the car getting whomped by phone pole after phone pole and you pull inside, shake some more dander on the back seat then wonder why your not hanging out the window catching the breeze.

Whomp!

And so it was that I thought an 8.25 mile trail run in the springtime with the guys would be fun both for old time's sake and fun to do. After all, it was only 5 something more miles over hilly and river-snaked terrain, more than I had just barely completed over city streets with EMTs no more than a few feet away at any time.

So when one of the Circle suggested we sign up, I made the promise to and now I understand that I might have better promised to hold off the rebels while Ghadafi got on the plane. Both are stupid and both will result in a lot of physical suffering.

But I promised.

And a promise made is a promise kept. Its an iron vow that you only break when you're incapacitated as in dying or being held hostage by the North Koreans.

The run is around Easter. I don't want to look at a calendar 'cause I've got other things to dread just now. But stick with me. I'll be posting regular updates on how the training's going under the headline of Woodsy the Running Moron.

Bunny on.