Gentle readers, if a mushroom cloud of doom shall rise in the Midwest this weekend, pay no mind. Remember that tomorrow is Flag Day and that a certain bag of bones will be up to no good as of today at 5 p.m. EST in celebration of the last year of his almost-30s.
I will accept your prayers, if those prayers save me from lawful intercepts.
Last month, I mused on nearing the end of my first age group, which then led to a reality check that maybe getting older isn't so bad as it seems. In fact, I'm not worried about getting old. And even more in fact, in terms of running, I'm quite young.
According to my sources, runner's peak after 10 years. I've only been running for two. I'm no math major, but by my calculations I have eight more years of improved running ahead of me. However, I have only one more chance to nab first place in my age group at my best race.
Last year, hungover, I posted a 10K PR of 53:21, good enough for second in the 25-29'ers. This year I'm shooting for a sub-50:00. Will that be good enough for first?
All this looking back and forth has got me dizzy. And I'm not focusing on the immediate task ahead. I must prepare for Happy Hour. If you would like to donate your liver to this greater cause, then please say so in the comments.
Now that we have our minds off the toilet, I thought you'd be interested to know that the coworker who was using the MASTER CLEANSE gave up as of 7 p.m. last night. I guess she no longer gives a crap about her bodily toxins. (Or maybe now she can give a crap?)
Run well and drink well this weekend, teammates. Cheers and good luck!
Drunkard's Update: Oops, forgot one other thing. I told my dad I'm boycotting Father's Day since it interferes with my birthday. However, that doesn't mean you fathers out there shouldn't enjoy a fine a day. Just as long as it doesn't interfere with my drinking. Happy Father's Day.