Leader of the Pack, Slobs, and Dr. Jekyll*

The More Things Change
As faithful readers may remember, last year during the Phoenix Rock 'n' Roll marathon (January 2009), I was injured, so I volunteered to be the TNT "Pacer" for the first half of the marathon. This meant that I was supposed to walk at a 16:40 pace while carrying a balloon, and as long as people stayed in front of me, they would reach the halfway point before the cut-off, which meant that they would be able to complete the race (as opposed to being pulled off the course and bused to the finish. As it turned out, this was a very lonely and somewhat humbling experience. I was way behind everyone else, walking alone, being bonked on the head by a stupid balloon and showered by pity cheers as I plodded along, and, since I wasn't used to walking so much, developing pretty decent blisters on both my heels. Which brings us to this year. I was assigned a post between miles 7 and 10, which meant I had to get there before our fastest runners, which meant I would need to leave the starting area early in order to get there before our fastest runners. The race was scheduled to start at 7:40, so I took off at 7:15 and headed out on the course. Just like last year, I found myself traveling down the road all by myself. This time, though, instead of trailing 8,000 marathoners, I was actually in the lead. That's right, for the very first (and possibly last) time in my life, I was leading a race. And the best part of this was that quite a few people along the course actually thought I was in the lead - for real. "Way to go!" they shouted. "You're way ahead of everyone!" And I was. I'm not sure why they thought I - who was running 9ish-minute-miles - was actually leading this thing, but it was still a pretty cool feeling, so I just smiled and waved and continued on my merry way. Until about mile 6 or so, when I heard a commotion behind me - more specifically, a voice on a loudspeaker saying, "Please clear the course. Everyone must move to the sidewalks." And that was when the elite pack of runners whooshed by me like I was standing still (actually, I was standing still, because I had moved over to the sidewalk as directed). Thus ended my one and only "leading the race" experience.

A slob by any other name…"
Last week, I had an interview after school, so I dressed to kill by wearing Dockers, a collared, long-sleeved, buttoned shirt, and hiking shoes (as opposed to my usual t-shirt or untucked golf shirt and running shoes). When I left my bedroom and said goodbye to my children, Connor said, "Why are you wearing a suit today, Dad?" Then when I got to school, the kids said things like, "Why is your shirt tucked in?" and "Why are you so dressed up today?" and (my favorite) "Why are you dressed like a teacher today?" Hmm. What do you suppose they're trying to tell me?

Another Dr. Jekyll* Moment
There was an article in the newspaper the other day about the inaugural Mt. Lemmon Marathon, which will be held in October of this year. I'd heard a little bit about it before this, and I have to admit that something about it seemed strangely appealing to that deep, dark part of me that mulls over deep, dark things. So I went to the website yesterday and checked it out and found that, yes, it is a marathon that it starts at the base of Mt. Lemmon and ends at the top of Mt. Lemmon, which means the route follows the Mt. Lemmon Highway as it twists and turns, and most significantly climbs (6,000 feet in the 26.2 miles). And climbs. And climbs. I've ridden up the highway on a bike, and it's quite a haul, so running up it? Even so, while the sane and rational side of me said, "You'd have to be crazy to do that," the crazy part of me said, "That sounds really cool - plus you get two shirts and a medal at the finish," and since the crazy part of me was, for whatever reason, able to overpower the sane and rational side of me at that moment, I went ahead and signed up. Yikes. What have I gotten myself into?

*Please note the correct spelling of "Dr. Jekyll" in this posting. Apparently, I spelled it wrong in an earlier entry which some anonymous person pointed out in an anonymous comment - hey, I'm just glad somebody's paying attention.

That's all for now - it's cloudy and cool this afternoon, and I've got a five-mile run waiting to happen - so until next time, may your cloudy days be filled with sunshine, may your ties remain on their racks where they belong, and may your Dr. Jekyll moments fill your life with excitement and whimsy.