Part II: Evolution of My Marathon

For the first time in at least a decade, I got to spend my birthday with my parents. And the weather was splendid.

Due to a long, tragic series of calamitous events, my nieces Angelina & Abagail and nephew JJ were also home for my b-day. “Hey, kids! Uncle Kyle’s home!”

These are authentically Kentucky children–complete with Southern twang’ed accents and idiosyncratic pronunciations. And, yes, they are eating So Delicious vegan ice cream that I brought home.

I allowed a minute amount of chocolate to impose upon my pre-marathon 2 week caffeine fast. “Thanks so much, Debbie, for my vegan chocolate birthday cheesecake!” (Mom scraped off a bunch of the chocolate for me.)

Each day of the week I would eat a small breakfast before driving into town to run and stretch. This is the path I run to the track at Bardstown High.

The weeklong mantra was to just relax…be confident. The money was in the bank. Stay loose, stay strong.

Mom & I visited Pat and Herb’s farm across the way. A good place to drift away…

It’s best to not think much about the race anymore the week of. So…Mom & I ate at Zen Garden in Louisville.

I watched the kids put costumes on Charlie.

I got poison ivy on my leg.

JJ & I both had some tightness. His was in the right quad; he knew to foam roll.

Mine was upper left hamstring, into glute. I foamed, too, but also really enjoyed 2 hydro massages at Anytime Fitness.

The ten pound catfish in the pond ate and played.

Abagail, never shy, danced. All was right with my world. The stage was set for a PR race.

My first 21 kilometer race ever was this one, as a sophomore at Seneca High in Louisville. Still have this shirt–but mine’s a bed for the field mice in my parent’s shed.

My time is nearly at hand…

But first, my pre-race meal at Grape Leaf, in Louisville’s Crescent Hill neighborhood, and the requisite bourbon ads in a land from which 95 percent of the world’s bourbon originates.

Tomorrow, I am going to destroy this course! (Okay, now calm…)

Coming soon—-Part III: The Race

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s