When I am lying about my running, I tell people that I race because all adults should have a hobby, because I need a good excuse to leave the bar, and because I want the mug.
We’re talking about THE mug – the one that goes to the top 100 male and female finishers at this Thanksgiving race that I run when I’m in shape sometimes, and oh God, even now I’m downplaying how important this race is to me.
Let’s be real: I’ve never been out of the top 10. I’m probably going to get a mug every time. But for some unspoken reason, the Ashenfelter 8K is my white whale, my albatross, my [fill in literary allusion], and as long as I’ve raced it, I’ve wondered if I had sub-30 in me.
There was absolutely no reason to think that I’d be anywhere close this year. Read more >>