Where I say “whoops” after looking at the calendar

This weekend was, basically, the last weekend for a “long run” before the marathon. So, naturally, we got about a foot of snow while the calendar still read “October,” and running in a wintery mix is not exactly what I wanted to do.

So, I bag a run on Saturday and then, against my better judgement, I drove out to NJ with my wife to attend my stepbrother’s wedding1, spent the night in Philly (meaning that I got a whole 4 hours of sleep), and worked my way back home. The weather had cleared, but there was still a lot of snow on the ground . . . I napped for just a little while, packed the kids up in their winter finest, and stuck them in the jogging stroller.

My plan was to run 18 miles, or to go until the kids complained. I made it 8.5 before they started screaming. Oh, well – I still have the half-marathon distance well under my legs, and I’ll be able to run most mornings until I taper . . . I’m nervous, but I’ll make it through the marathon (because I have great confidence when my sanity wanes).

The real reason I wanted to write this post, though, was that I was looking at my schedule immediately following the marathon. I’ll run from 8:00 until I’m done (this should be sometime between noon and 1:00), get my stuff, hop in the car, and work my way to the Carlisle Theater because, you see, I have a symphony concert immediately following the race.

So, if you’re in the greater Harrisburg area, and wanted to, say, bring a vat of deep-fried cheese curds to the finish line of the Harrisburg Marathon, so that I can rapidly re-inject calories, it would be greatly appreciated.

1  It took me 5½ hours for what should have been a 3 hour drive, part of which included me fishtailing all over the Pennsylvania Turnpike. When Billy Joel sang “Home can be the Pennsylvania Turnpike,” I had no idea he was referring to the “heavenly home.”

18 comments

    1. Last year, I ran the Harrisburg marathon and then played a piano recital – but I had about 2 hours between (during which I ate a boatload of onion rings – I’m all about the fried food, apparently).

      I, honestly, don’t remember the recital. At all. I know I played, and was well-received . . . but the details escape me.

      Reply

  2. WHAT??

    What in the world?

    I think I’ll just sit here on my cottage cheese butt, eating my Pringles, praying I’ll be you in my next life.

    GOOD LUCK.

    How do YOU do it.

    Reply

    1. When I mention that I’m crazy . . . I do believe I actually am.

      But this was just a scheduling snafu. And my craziness saying “I’m sorry, I can’t do both.” Actually, I would take the concert off (seeing as I already paid my entrance fee for the marathon), but I might be the only bassist that day.

      Reply

    1. I’m actually curious how this will play out with my time. Knowing that I absolutely need to be back on the road by 2pm, I think I have to obliterate last year’s time (and I, um, did not do well last year – it’s a flat course until mile marker 18, and then it gets to some of the hilliest running that I’ve ever encountered . . . I think I tried to cry, but I didn’t have any mechanism to produce water for tears).

      Reply

    1. I’m actually thinking about programming the Russian Easter Overture into my iPhone at random intervals in the play-list, just to remind myself that I can’t get back too late.

      Reply

    1. Last year, after running the marathon, I played a piano recital. Everyone talked about how well I did . . . but, um, I don’t remember a single detail.

      Reply

    1. Well, the 18 miles didn’t happen (although I did a 18 mile bike ride followed by an 8.5 mile run this past Sunday), but I was hoping for it.

      And thanks . . . yeah, that line between “crazy” and “motivated” is blurry, at best.

      Reply

  9. You are a brave dude. But when you’re out there running, what other choice is there but to finish? You certainly won’t turn and cab it back to finish line. I’ll send tacos and beer to the symphony.

    Reply

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