Thank you so much for the t-shirt.
The glow-in-the-dark orange will spend some time on my Elliptigo.
Believe I’ve mentioned my neighbors’ disdain for stop signs.
***
Actually, wanted to write you again – gotta talk to somebody about this –
and this welcome surprise gives me the excuse to share the latest affront to my sport.
To wit, last Sunday’s edition of the local paper’s ironically named Personal Best section.
Cover story. Top line on that front cover: “Half Marathon, Full Commitment.”
Which strikes me on its face as an oxymoron.
***
Middle-aged ladies in bright pink shirts. Arms raised in triumph.
Oh, my gosh. I just noticed they are waving chrome-colored pom-poms.
Anyway, good for them.
Bottom of the cover is a banner FINISH LINE in bold caps.
As we all know, the only finish line is the grave.
***
And inside is a centerfold color piece about empowerment
and health and sisterhood. Which is all fine.
Great in fact. So, I am reading along because, well,
I love empowerment and running. You know I truly do.
And I get to this sentence:
“Our goal is to get them to run a mile in under 18 minutes…”
which is when I threw the Personal Best section over my head
into the trash.
***
Picked it out later
because something like that cannot be simply tossed aside.
Used to be, approaching middle age,
I could run – personally myself –
more than three miles in less than eighteen minutes.
And I was slow.
***
Somebody has to stand up and say
Stop. No more, please.
That’s not running.
That’s a brisk walk by any normal adult.
And most kids over the age of five or six.
Empowerment and health and sisterhood, fine.
***
But, please, I am begging you,
don’t tell somebody covering a mile in eighteen minutes
please, don’t tell them they are running
because they are not.
***
Don’t get me started!!!!