Gentlemen,

By now you realize that I’ve been training you for a purpose. Shortly, we will be running the Kiawah Island Marathon together. You’ve worked very hard, and I appreciate this. I’ve pushed you and you’ve responded. For every mile I’ve asked you to endure, for every hill or race I’ve demanded, you’ve become stronger… better. Now all I ask is that you qualify me for the Boston Marathon this Saturday.

That means you need to propel me 26.2 miles in under 3 hours and 15 minutes. If all goes well, we’ll celebrate together at the finish and I will finally let you rest.

In all honesty however, I have a few more demands.

I want you to carry me to Boston on Saturday without incurring any injury, slight or grave. I fully expect that you will avoid both hyponatremia and dehydration. You will run a proper balance between insufficient glycogen stores and gastrointestinal disturbances caused by excessive food intake. Certainly loss of bladder control will not be tolerated.

There will be no underpronation or overpronation; no planar fascitis, blisters, legions, black toenails, ankle sprains, or mysterious upper foot pain. We will run without developing shin splints, hip bursitis, iliotibial Band syndrome, patellofemoral syndrome (nor any syndrome for that matter), stress fractures, pulled hamstrings, cramps, or any other mysterious knee pain. And let’s not even fool around with excess blood lactate concentration yielding excess fat store consumption, okay? We all know where that leads.

I have done and will do my best to help you avoid any of these problems. But I must be frank. If any of these conditions occur during the race, I will simply demand that you continue running at pace. I do not say this to make you upset, or to insult you. It’s only fair that I warn you.

If you require me to collapse, vomit, or babble incoherently after crossing the finish line, that’s fine.

Just get me to Boston.

Warmest Regards,
Dean