St. George Marathon 09

Fall whispered quietly in the chilly darkness that summer was gone, but this didn’t affect the Goat as he put on a few layers of clothes and headed out for a “fun” 26.2 mile run. He hopped on a shuttle bus that drove him to the starting point of the race. Bon fires kept everyone warm until it was time to start. It sounded like his favorite pre-race surprise. His second favorite not so surprising pre-race memory involved the lovely forests. The port a potty shortages resulted in long lines and runners exploring the forest in search of pine cones. The Goat had no major complaints. He was prepared like a good boy scout.

The Goat was on a steady pace and ahead of schedule until the last five miles when he began to refer to himself as “one hurting unit.” The first thing he wanted to tell me was that he finished the race seven minutes slower than he had planned. He had calculated that he would qualify for the Boston Marathon if he stayed on schedule. He attributed this to his weight loss and not enough time to rebuild his muscles yet. “Next time,” he said.

I tried not to hurt myself as I imagined running 26.2 miles in 3:38. “That could take me two days!” I said, making sure that he knew 3:38 was amazing. “Maybe you and your sister can do it next year.” He suggested. “I get tired driving my car 26.2 miles. How many days will they give me?” I asked, laughing. Honestly, my brain has a hard time computing the distance. I admire it, but I’m not sure it would be for me. I know the old cliché says that if you can’t beat them then join them; well I certainly can’t beat him, not at this.

The Goat went and got a massage that afternoon and took it easy for a few days, plotting out his “next” mountain to climb. Good job Goat!

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