I’m running four miles tomorrow and you know, that’s a long, long way. I mean, four miles is 21,120 feet. That’s about 7,040 steps if every stride is three feet.
So in order to prepare for this race I started tapering back in January, 2015. Never did I run more than 30 miles in one week. In fact, I only did 30 miles in one week one time, and that was quite a load. For me.
That means my taper is nearly complete. I did not run at all yesterday, or the day before that actually. Saturday we ran six miles in a driving snowstorm, and I actually had to take a nap after that. Something about the weight of the snowflakes on my eyelashes really tired me out.
The challenge when you’re tapering for a four-miler is that just about anything can tire you out. For example, right now I’m typing at a rate of probably 70 wpm. I’ll probably have to lie down for three hours to recover that energy.
See, there’s this hill at the start of the race that goes up the very banks of the Fox River Valley. It lasts about sixty yards and a hill that size in Illinois has been known to cause people to implode on the spot. It is no more than four degrees of incline, but even at that angle, if you run fast enough you could launch off and plop down in the cornfields a couple miles west.
So I’m being cautious just in case. A few years ago I missed this race because of a surgical procedure on an infected finger. The cause was a sliver, and that means you can’t be careful enough in protecting yourself before the race. It’s often said by Ironman athletes they wish they could wrap themselves in bubble wrap the last couple weeks before competition. With all that training under your belt it would be tragic to fall on your bike and miss the Big Day.
And tomorrow’s a Big Day here in America! It’s the day we actually celebrate a tradition where a bunch of immigrants came to America and were saved from starving by the people who already lived here. The rest of the story isn’t that pretty to talk about, so we won’t get into that. But it’s always good to celebrate our traditions.
Next up is the holiday where we essentially traded one bearded, Middle Eastern guy who prayed for the poor for a fat white guy who disappoints when he does not come through with the goods.
Yes, we’ve got our priorities straight and we’re headed for bear into the Holiday Season. But first I’ve got to negotiate the only hill in our town and eat some turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes in recovery. We Americans have it tough, and we’re willing to run four whole miles to prove it.