I Demand a Remach

Today was the annual running of the Shamrock Shuffle. There had been much planning, training, and a bunch of smack talk from mumblingsages. The day finally arrived. We made it to the venue with time to spare and hung out in the American Legion on Water Street waiting for the race to start. I saw the course map and realized that my guess of running along the river was completely wrong. We were going to run through Carson Park. Which means we were going to run up Carson Park Hill. Well this changed my strategy. My strategy was based on the assumption that if the race came down to a sprint at the end, I had the edge. I figgured MumblingSages knew this and was going to get himself out to an early lead that would be too much for me to make up at the end. So to counter, my plan was to stay 25-50 yards behind him no matter the pace and pray I had enuff in the tank at the end.
Then I thought of Carson Park Hill. The Mumbler trains ind00rs. On a treadmill. He is not used to real life hillz. I made a game time decision to vary the plan a bit at the hill. I would stay close untill we got there, then turn up the speed on the way up the hill and judge his reaction. Even tho it was less than half way into the race, I knew if I beat him up the hill I knew I had him. I even planned to let him catch me after the hill and lay in the weeds untill the end.
When we got there I was still rather close behind him. I sped up as we hit the bottom of the hill. He increased pace to maintain his lead. I thot about grabbing another gear to see if he could answer. I have run up this hill before and I knew it was still early on in the race. I also knew that I would not be able to maintain any additional speed for the remained of the hill. Last thing I needed was to waste my reserves too early. So I decided to maintain my marginal increase to see if he would fade before the crest. He did knot.
At about the half way point, the course has gradually worked its way down about a quarter of the hill when it hairpins and begins a short double-back portion, back up the hill, before it breaks off to finish the l00p.
I was starting to feel a little gassed at this point. He had set a pace that was quite a bit quicker than my comfort zone. My earbuds were rocking, I put my head down and started to focus on my breathing, all the while keeping him in the corner of my eye. I was heartened by the fact that even tho I slowed a bit I seemed to be reeling him in. Serve him right for going out to fast, I knew I could burn him on the back side of this hill. As I pulled alongside I could hear his feet slapping and he was huffing a puffing like a steam engine. I felt kinda bad for him so I l00ked over with an encouraging smile. Imagine my panic when I realized I was focused on the wrong fat guy in a blue running s00t.
Wild eyed I skanned ahead. There he was. About 50 yards ahead of me. His lead was at the upper bound of my plan and he was s00n to be cresting the hill. I picked up the pace and managed to cut the lead and nearly be shoulder to shoulder on the downslope.
Ok time to rest a bit. Gather reserves. The course is flat the rest of the way, but we were still a long way from home. As we turned the corner near the DQ he began to pull away again. There was still time. As we passed the apartments and residents cat-called to the girl in front of me he was 50 yards ahead again. There was still time. As we passed the park pavilion he was 60 yards ahead and time was running out.
I t00k out my Ronco Pocket Fisherman, h00ked the back of his shirt and began to reel him in. His lead shrank to 50 yards, to 20, to 10. Once I got to ten yards back I began to sneek peeks beyond him. How much race is left? Can I blow by him now? Can I make it to the end at top speed? The answer was always "no". Must wait to be closer to the end. Must cut his lead and get ready.
At five yards back, I made up my mind. There was about a half a mile left I was going to wait there until the last tenth of a mile to turn on the jets. Will I have enuff in the tank to kick up the speed? Will I be able to outpace his counter move? Will there be enuff road left to overcome? I never found out. Right at that moment, his lungs gave out and the leg injury he had been hiding flared up. He pulled to the side of the path to take a breather and nurse his leg.
I finished the race at a slowed pace. I had lost the rabbit I was chasing. I kept l00king over my shoulder, fearing he would recover his wind and come flying back (at this point I was still unaware of the leg problem). While I am always happy for a victory, it is always sweeter after a battle to the end. Yes, the fact that he had to pull off speaks to my superior physical condition. However, we still have the unanswered question. Could I have outsprinted him in the end? Had the pace he set tapped my reserves? The world will have to live without that answer. For now. I demand a rematch!

Preparing for battle

Throughout history warriors have prepared for battle. The preparations have echoed from eternity with as near clarity as the battle themselves. Time is but an illusion. It is but a crutch leaned on by mortals too blind to see eternity. Why do the legends of history speak to us? They have achieved eternity. They are not the past. All that they have done, they are doing. As I prepare for the Shamrock Shuffle on the morrow I can feel the presence of Hercules, of Napolean, of the Mongol Horde. Our goals may differ, but I can feel my preparations binding me to the fraternity of eternity. We brothers prepare. There is no when, there is only where. Here am I, programming a running mix into my iPod Nano. Somewhere David loads his sling pouch with stones from the river bed. Somewhere Popeye opens a can of spinach. Somewhere A-Rod drops his pants. Are those my fingers clasping my iPod? Or are they Samson's seizing the jawbone of an ass? Only the Philistines know for sure.

Its going to be a busy weekend.

As if the much ballyh00ed race vs. mumblingsages wern't enuff. Starting Friday at ten pm I have this to deal with. I signed up for the tournament and the race for the same weekend. I figgure there is not much chance that I will still be required to play tennis on Sunday. I am not that g00d anymore.

I suspect photoshoppe

Reports have come to light of mumblingsages suffering an injury whilst training for our race. Apparently there is a still pic of hidden spy video of the session. While the face is not visible I have my doubts that it really is the sage in the picture.

Injury report

Egads!!! Timing is everything. With four days to go, before the Shamerock shuffle I was laying low, minding my own bizniz. I have been training of course, but I am pacing myself to be ready yet rested this next Sunday morn. To that end, Monday I was calmly lifting a couple of ATV's out of snowbanks in the back yard when up walks Buenger Back. When I accepted the challenge to compete in the Shamerock Shuffle I was well aware that I was going to be dealing with a pain in the neck. I just didn't realize that it would be compounded by an actual injury. Buenger Back tends to visit at the oddest times. Sometimes he visits for a coupld hours. Sometimes a couple weeks. I played tennis this morning in a warm up for this weekends tournament and my mobility was limited by it. Mumblingsages may take this as a glimmer of hope. He would be unwise to do so. It may hamper my tennis game, especially weaking my dominant serve, but running in a straight line doesn't seem to be affected.