In November, I ran the New York Marathon in 2:42. That was good enough to get me into Boston, and I signed up quick. Then, life and a new job here got in the way. I've hardly run since moving to New York in December, and sometime in January I gave up on Boston.
But then, last week, friend of the BPP Amby Burfoot reminded me that this year's Boston is the 40th anniversary of the year he won the race, and he invited me to join his pack. The chance is too good to miss, even if I won't be able to walk the next day. Amby's planning a leisurely pace, so I think I can make it, but I'm not sure.
So, with just over three weeks till the race, I started training on Saturday. I went out for my longest run of the year, a twelve-miler through Brooklyn. Lungs felt okay, but apparently I forgot how to run. I told girlfriend Nora I fell off a cliff on a trail but really I tripped over my own feet on a Brooklyn sidewalk. Evidence above.
Is this a sign I maybe shouldn't be doing this? How dumb is training for a marathon in three weeks? I'll keep you posted.