I was sitting on my couch the day after the Denver Half Marathon yelling at the Red Sox through my TV and rewarding myself for my previous day’s effort by eating and drinking whatever I pleased. For the most part I was pretty inanimate because I had developed some new muscles just so they could ache. I guess my body got tired of punishing me with soreness in my existing muscles.
My attention wandered to my laptop during the commercial breaks, where I was busy looking up companies that would install an elevator in my home because I’ve come to the conclusion that stairs suck. (Sorry, that’s a ‘lift’ for you blokes in England, or l'ascenseur if you’re French.) I've seen the commercials a thousand times already and I was getting pretty sick of Dane Cook telling me that there was only one October. Thanks for clearing that up Dane, if you could add the Cleveland Rocks song to the end of that commercial you'll have achieved the pinnacle of annoying.
Before I even knew what had happened I found myself on the Runner’s World race finder website. Despite the pain and soreness I was already looking for the next race to run. Having a race to aim my training at makes the running that much more meaningful for me. And so it was that I found myself looking up races, ashamedly hiding the screen from my wife so that she wouldn’t see what I was doing. I need to race. It’s a sickness, and I don’t want to get help. I’ve said it before, but Monday night just confirmed it. I’m addicted.