Over the past seventeen days, Iâ€™ve written a Socratic dialogue starring Obama, Hillary, and McCain, presented a Studio 54 marathon medal only an undertaker would love, and extolled the virtues of Cadbury CrÃ¨me Eggs. I wasnâ€™t ashamed to say that Bambi scared me out of my skin, and I didnâ€™t realize just how many people had heard of the Duel in the Sun but hadnâ€™t ever seen it.
But Now Iâ€™ve hit the wall. My creative glycogen has been depleted and I now must burn the fat of writerâ€™s desperation. Iâ€™m stumbling through the final miles of this daily blogging marathon.
Like all runners who experience quasi spiritual epiphanies after mile twenty. Iâ€™ve come to the end of my plucky wit and am finally looking beyond my own nose. Iâ€™ve realized that through all my sardonic bluster, Iâ€™ve failed to truly thank those whoâ€™ve helped get me to this point.
So letâ€™s put this to mending:
East lake Runners
You lit the fire, gave me a structured goal, and provided much-needed companionship early-on. Without this, I doubt Iâ€™d have stuck with this running fad.
You taught me how to run. Youâ€™re a human metronome and a running encyclopedia. Youâ€™re also the busiest man I knowâ€¦ and I know myself.
Harbison Trail Runners
You boiled me when I needed it most and introduced me to the engrossing trail culture. I always look forward to running with you. Let’s talk Laurel Canyon!
Readers, Family & Friends
Thanks for following my story and encouraging me as Iâ€™ve expressed doubts. Your support empowers me and your blog comments are consistently hilarious.
I swear, Iâ€™m running during those two hour lunches.
More than one person sacrifices during obsessive, continuous marathon training. Youâ€™ve backed me thoroughly and perfectly; much more than I deserve. I guess this means I owe you big time.
Oâ€™Charleyâ€™s tonight, baby!