The Other Shoe Drops
Photo courtesy of Jared Cherup via flickr.
I should write glowingly of the Myrtle Beach Marathon, where I finally felled the quixotic windmill. But the purist in me canâ€™t generate enough enthusiasm. Unremarkable and devoid of subtlety, the race reflects Myrtle Beach itself. Itâ€™s the tourist trap of marathons.
Sure, Iâ€™m an exultant qualifier; but when it comes to Myrtle, Iâ€™m also the running equivalent of a jaded, apathetic middle manager. Iâ€™m that conflicted.
At least I donâ€™t have writerâ€™s block. Iâ€™ve offered my splits, now I turn poison pen to the race itself. So, enjoy my â€œI Qualified for Boston and Now Iâ€™m an Insufferable Running Snob Myrtle Beach Marathon Race Reportâ€.
(Race officials, may want to get a glass of wine first.)