My fastest race ever was the one I didn’t run.
A few years ago, I registered for a trail race in New Hampshire: the Jack London 10K, named for the author of “The Call of the Wild.”
It was in another state. On Nov. 1. Can anyone see the problem here? Captain Oblivious here didn’t, and so yes, I paid money to run a race in another state early on the morning after Halloween.
And no, I didn’t make it. But amazingly enough, I ran my personal best!
A few months later, a friend spotted my name on the list of finishers. I’d finished in 49:26, a pace just under eight minutes a mile.
Had I actually run this race, I would have petitioned the Vatican to deem this a miracle. But of course, someone just picked up my lonely bib and ran with it, literally and figuratively. Technically, yes, that made him or her a bandit, but I don’t care. If I can’t make a race, I’m happy to have someone run in my place, particularly if they’re going to make me look good, but race directors who forbid the transfer of numbers make this difficult for those of us inclined to generosity. Read more >>