On Track March 7, 2010

I am a stud. I will wait for you to stop laughing before I continue. Do I have to get Brigadier General Bicep out here to restore calm to the blogosphere? Silencio! Thank you. I did four, one mile repeats on the track today, all of them at a much faster pace than I had planned, and without killing myself. Please stifle the sarcastic sobbing.

The track is where I go for my serious running. The speed doesn't match the seriousness like it did backintheday, but I don't mind. There is no point to measuring myself against my times from ten years ago. It wouldn't be realistic, because, let's face it-I used illegal substances to achieve those marks. I was on everything from asbestos to zebra tail, from abalone to zircon.

I ran my fastest marathon in 1999, while under the influence of periwinkle greens. I had heard that a tribe of natives in Mission Hills, KS, ate them to stave off fatigue. I had a great race, but I turned an enchanting, purplish shade of blue for a month.

It got so bad that I woke up before a big 5-K surrounded by locust husks. Where were the cicadas? OMG, was I buzzin'. I wiped out the entire 17-year crop. Oh,the shame.

No, I was flying free today. High on life and Eggos-not illegal yet, thank you, President Barack STALIN Obama. I was running so easily that I felt like the great Ethiopian, Abebe Bikila, even if the reality looked more like a sickeningly pale-legged hog on ice.

On the track, I loose my dreams of Olympic glory before the vast, empty high school bleachers. I am Billy Mills, in the 1964 10-K in Tokyo, coming from behind to complete one of the greatest American success stories ever. I am Frank Shorter in the 1972 marathon, on the cusp of starting an American running boom. I am the fearless Steve Prefontaine, dueling with the unflappable Finn, Lasse Viren, even if I am really just excited about running a mile in seven minutes, rather than four.

On the track, I am a runner. I run to reach my potential, wherever that might be.

Thanks for reading.